CHORUS
I don't buy the religion that other people sell.
I don't care if I go to Heaven or if I go to Hell.
I don't pledge allegiance to one nation under God.
I won't just sit there like a puppet, acquiese, and nod
when you try to cram your religion down into my throat
those lies and superstition that you memorized by rote.
I won't drink the Kool-aid even with a gun to my head.
I'll take a couple of you fools with me before I'm dead.
CHORUS:
AMERICAN TALIBAN, GO BACK TO AFGHANISTAN.
YOUR LIES AND HYPOCRISY DESTROY OUR DEMOCRACY.
NEANDERTHAL CHRISTO-FASCIST, REDNECK PSYCHO SADIST.
KEEP YOUR RELIGION AWAY FROM ME AND JUST LET ME BE FREE.
I think I'll start a new religion. I should give it a try.
If Jesus and Joseph Smith can do it than so can I.
We'll spend all our time smoking ganja and worshipping the moon and sun.
Every day, all day long, we'll be having feasts and fun.
We'll worship the gods of music by dancing until dawn.
The party will never stop it will go on and on and on.
The only marriages we'll allow will be the gay ones.
We'll give free condoms and abortions to every one.
CHORUS
Friday, December 12, 2008
From the Desert to the Mountains
I just arrived in the town of Huaraz, Peru. It is a lovely place indeed. There are about a dozen snow-capped peaks just outside of the city to the east. Getting here was not the most pleasurable experience as I had ascended a height of 13,877 feet (a new personal best) on a dirt road with a badly cracked rear rim. I passed through a number of villages that didn't have any places to eat other than stores that only sold cookies, potato chips, cans of tuna, soda, and coca leaves. I pretty much had to force myself to suffer food rationing and I went to bed with hunger pangs a number of times. Coca leaves are known to have a hunger repressing properties and I took advantage them because of the lack of food.
I also left the wonderfully dry desert for the cold rains of the mountains. The rain actually turned the road into nothing more than a mud pit at a number of places. I even had to get off my bike and push it for a small stretch. Descending into Huaraz during a torrential downpour was downright hellish. Just outside of the city, I was trapped between a bus and a semi on a road that could best be described as a mud cascade since it was unpaved and had no gutters. When I finally got to the city, I had to change out of my wet clothes so I wouldn't get sick. I am now happily dry, comfortable, and well fed at a hostel where I plan to relax for the next couple of days.
It is amazing how much contrast there is between the mountains and the desert here. When you are high in the mountains it is lush and green. The coastal deserts are almost completely devoid of native plant life. I went through long stretches of road where there is nothing but miles and miles of sand. Fortunately, because of the strong Antarctic wind coming from the south, it is not the hottest desert I have passed through, at least not until the coastal mountain ranges near Casma, Peru block it off. Camping was easy as there are almost no areas that are fenced off. I would just go about 100 meters off the side of road and camp behind a sand dune or some other obstruction. The stark emptiness of the desert is quite incredible. I can only describe the moments where the sun strikes a wind-swept sand dune as moments of perfect beauty. I took some pictures but, as usual, they don't do any justice to the beauty of the places where I was.
Even though the desert is devoid of native plant life, there are parts of it where they have used irrigation to grow rice. I was completely astounded by this as rice is one of the most water intensive crops that one can grow. It seems to me that a country that has managed to grow rice in the desert shouldn't be so poor. Despite the cultivation of water intensive crops in the desert, Peru still manages to consume less than six times less water per capita than the United States. I protested this fact my not showering for a month. In the desert, unlike the jungle, I don't get skin rashes when I don't bathe. I love being dirty. It makes me feel like I am embracing my caveman roots.
I encountered one of the very first locals I have happened upon which didn't seem too friendly to foreigners. As I rode by and said, "Buenas tardes." to indicate my friendliness she said something in Quechua to here dog which then started chasing me and barking at me. Her tone was aggressive which made me think that she was saying, "Sick him, Sick him." and she did absolutely nothing to restrain her dog unlike most people with over-exuberant guard dogs. I just ignored her dog until it went away but I almost sassed her for her rude behavior.
If you have any kind of phobia of dogs, you should not ride a bicycle through Latin America. There are legions of dogs which roam the streets in every part I have passed through. As there are no leash laws, domesticated dogs and stray dogs mingle at every corner, often chasing passer-bys on bikes and motorcycles. I am not afraid of dogs at all. As an animal who travels upright, humans have an evolutionary advantage over dogs. Not only do we scare them because we appear bigger to them but we can pick up rocks and throw them. Since I carry a large buck knife, I know that no dog is my match in a fight. One of the funniest moments involving dogs, that I have seen, was in the city of Sullana, Peru. There was a large pack of about 10 dogs roaming the streets and fighting amongst themselves to establish dominance. It seems that a bitch had wandered into their midst and they were fighting for the first dibs to enseminate her. The locals just laughed at this and shrugged as if it is an everyday occurence.
I also left the wonderfully dry desert for the cold rains of the mountains. The rain actually turned the road into nothing more than a mud pit at a number of places. I even had to get off my bike and push it for a small stretch. Descending into Huaraz during a torrential downpour was downright hellish. Just outside of the city, I was trapped between a bus and a semi on a road that could best be described as a mud cascade since it was unpaved and had no gutters. When I finally got to the city, I had to change out of my wet clothes so I wouldn't get sick. I am now happily dry, comfortable, and well fed at a hostel where I plan to relax for the next couple of days.
It is amazing how much contrast there is between the mountains and the desert here. When you are high in the mountains it is lush and green. The coastal deserts are almost completely devoid of native plant life. I went through long stretches of road where there is nothing but miles and miles of sand. Fortunately, because of the strong Antarctic wind coming from the south, it is not the hottest desert I have passed through, at least not until the coastal mountain ranges near Casma, Peru block it off. Camping was easy as there are almost no areas that are fenced off. I would just go about 100 meters off the side of road and camp behind a sand dune or some other obstruction. The stark emptiness of the desert is quite incredible. I can only describe the moments where the sun strikes a wind-swept sand dune as moments of perfect beauty. I took some pictures but, as usual, they don't do any justice to the beauty of the places where I was.
Even though the desert is devoid of native plant life, there are parts of it where they have used irrigation to grow rice. I was completely astounded by this as rice is one of the most water intensive crops that one can grow. It seems to me that a country that has managed to grow rice in the desert shouldn't be so poor. Despite the cultivation of water intensive crops in the desert, Peru still manages to consume less than six times less water per capita than the United States. I protested this fact my not showering for a month. In the desert, unlike the jungle, I don't get skin rashes when I don't bathe. I love being dirty. It makes me feel like I am embracing my caveman roots.
I encountered one of the very first locals I have happened upon which didn't seem too friendly to foreigners. As I rode by and said, "Buenas tardes." to indicate my friendliness she said something in Quechua to here dog which then started chasing me and barking at me. Her tone was aggressive which made me think that she was saying, "Sick him, Sick him." and she did absolutely nothing to restrain her dog unlike most people with over-exuberant guard dogs. I just ignored her dog until it went away but I almost sassed her for her rude behavior.
If you have any kind of phobia of dogs, you should not ride a bicycle through Latin America. There are legions of dogs which roam the streets in every part I have passed through. As there are no leash laws, domesticated dogs and stray dogs mingle at every corner, often chasing passer-bys on bikes and motorcycles. I am not afraid of dogs at all. As an animal who travels upright, humans have an evolutionary advantage over dogs. Not only do we scare them because we appear bigger to them but we can pick up rocks and throw them. Since I carry a large buck knife, I know that no dog is my match in a fight. One of the funniest moments involving dogs, that I have seen, was in the city of Sullana, Peru. There was a large pack of about 10 dogs roaming the streets and fighting amongst themselves to establish dominance. It seems that a bitch had wandered into their midst and they were fighting for the first dibs to enseminate her. The locals just laughed at this and shrugged as if it is an everyday occurence.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Trujillo
I have spent the last three weeks in Trujillo trying to transcribe my blog. The desire is just not there to do this task. You can tell when you don't want to do something when you can find almost anything to distract from the task at hand. Anyway, I came to the decision that I would write less and try to focus on quality over quantity.
Walking around the streets of Trujillo is like walking around the track of MarioKart, except the battlecarts have been replaced with a whole bunch of little taxis. By an unofficial count, I would guess that close to 90% of all vehicles on the streets are taxis, colectivos, and buses. The taxi drivers are, of course, a menace. I have no doubt that they would run over their own toddler or grandmother if they got in their way. The other day I was impressed by the method that a man in a wheelchair used to cross the street. When he wanted to cross the street, he blew a whistle. My faith in the taxi drivers' bloodthirstiness was shaken when they actually braked for him. Most of the time, the taxis are empty but not in the morning when they bring people and their goods into the market to sell their wares. I even saw a taxi with a whole bunch of 2X4s strapped to the top and a cement mixer hitched to it. In Latin America, you have to hustle for your money in any way that you can think of.
The place where I am staying is close to a large number of different schools. Their students flood the area dressed in the various uniforms that indicate where they attend school. The other night, when I was sitting at an internet cafe, I witnessed an interesting urban phenomenon that I was previously unaware of. I saw about 40 kids all dressed in one uniform run past the front door while be chased by another group of equal or larger size that was wielding large rocks the size of my head. Outside, there was smashed glass everywhere. It turns out that Trujillo is filled with adolescent soccer hooligans. When I asked the lady who worked at the internet cafe how often this happens she just shrugged and said it happens "daily." All the street vendors outside kept on selling what they were selling as if nothing happened. The cops were able to break it up pretty quickly so I guess it wasn't to bad.
Walking around the streets of Trujillo is like walking around the track of MarioKart, except the battlecarts have been replaced with a whole bunch of little taxis. By an unofficial count, I would guess that close to 90% of all vehicles on the streets are taxis, colectivos, and buses. The taxi drivers are, of course, a menace. I have no doubt that they would run over their own toddler or grandmother if they got in their way. The other day I was impressed by the method that a man in a wheelchair used to cross the street. When he wanted to cross the street, he blew a whistle. My faith in the taxi drivers' bloodthirstiness was shaken when they actually braked for him. Most of the time, the taxis are empty but not in the morning when they bring people and their goods into the market to sell their wares. I even saw a taxi with a whole bunch of 2X4s strapped to the top and a cement mixer hitched to it. In Latin America, you have to hustle for your money in any way that you can think of.
The place where I am staying is close to a large number of different schools. Their students flood the area dressed in the various uniforms that indicate where they attend school. The other night, when I was sitting at an internet cafe, I witnessed an interesting urban phenomenon that I was previously unaware of. I saw about 40 kids all dressed in one uniform run past the front door while be chased by another group of equal or larger size that was wielding large rocks the size of my head. Outside, there was smashed glass everywhere. It turns out that Trujillo is filled with adolescent soccer hooligans. When I asked the lady who worked at the internet cafe how often this happens she just shrugged and said it happens "daily." All the street vendors outside kept on selling what they were selling as if nothing happened. The cops were able to break it up pretty quickly so I guess it wasn't to bad.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
We Are Still Losing the Drug War
Right now, I am sitting in an internet cafe in Sullana, Peru relaxing from the desert heat and reading archived news from the New York Times. Sullana has a reputation that precedes it as a city where there are a lot of drug addicts who smoke base, the chemicals used to extract cocaine from the coca leaf. I was warned at least five times before coming here that it was a sketchy place. The streets here are overrun with mototaxis as the three-wheeled, motarized pedicabs are called.
As cab drivers are universally shady people, I made a deal with one of the drivers to take me somewhere where I could buy weed. I paid the driver a little more than the going rate for a ride to take me somewhere to buy weed and then return me to where we had left from. While buying the "grifa", which I have learned is pretty much universally used throughout Latin America as slang for weed, one of those fucking base smokers jumped in the cab to grovel and beg me for money or some of my weed. I politely said "No, I'm sorry" while I allowed the driver to play bad cop. After not listening to his repeated requests to get out of the mototaxi, the driver threatened the base smoker with a knife and he got out. I was carrying my knife but I prefer not to use it to threaten people unless I am threatened first. As I stated before, the base smoker was grovelling to me rather than try to threaten me so I didn't consider him to be very menacing, just annoying.
The Drug War is still waged internationally by the U.S. government and their international allies, but it still hasn't eliminated my ability to find marijuana in various cities throughout Latin America. I didn't get a whole lot of pot but I only spent $10 on the whole transaction including the cab ride. The fact is that I should be able to go to any store that sells cigarretes and alcohol and buy marijuana for even less than that. I shouldn't have to dodge crackheads and go to dangerous neighborhoods just to buy weed. Marijuana is unfairly compared to harder drugs such as methamphetaminse, cocaine, and heroin when placed into the same category as an illegal drug.
Corruption linked to the Drug War has been in the news recently as it always seems to be as history repeats itself ad nauseam. There is a scandal which has grown to implicate several generals in the Colombian army as well as a larger contingent of mid-ranking and lower level soldiers. It appears that these military personel have been involved in the abduction,murder, and cover-up of what could be several hundred cases in which poor, sometimes homeless men were promised jobs in the military only to be taken to areas that were officially combat zones between the government and the leftist rebels only to be killed and disguised as rebels. In the Colombian military, promotions are often largely based on successful body counts of rebels so several of the mid-level officers received promotions as a result of these war crimes. As the Colombian army is in a war with rebels who traffic cocaine, any corruption in the military is inextricably linked to the drug war.
While corruption is metastasizing throughout the Colombian military, there was news from Mexico that several people who work in the Mexican Attorney General´s office have been caught accepting bribes from drug traffickers to pass them information about raids and other drug trafficking related intelligence. This harkens back to the glory days of the Mexican government's corruption when three successive heads of the nation's chief anti-drug agency were implicated in taking bribes from drug lords. They were Javier Coello Trejo , Mario Ruiz Massieu, and General Jesus Gutierrez Rebollo. It was during this time that the transit routes for the Colombian cartels began to shift through Mexico from the the more traditional Caribbean routes.
Javier Coello Trejo is infamous for other reasons other than accepting bribes to provide information to drug lords. When he was Mexico's equivalent of Drug Czar, several men who were specially vetted and picked to be in his personal security contingent were implicated in a rape scandal. It turns out that they were using government owned police cars and machine guns to abduct, rape, and even kill Mexican women in the southern part of Mexico City. Many feminist groups charged that these crimes would have gone completely unpunished if it wasn't for the fact that several rich girls with political connections were raped by this gang of thugs. There were also allegations that at least one of these policemen was a rampant cokehead. Eventually, Mr. Coello was caught accepting bribes and was forced to resign.
His successor was Mario Ruiz Massieu. He was caught trying to launder $9 million in Texas but wasn't forced from office until he was bizarrely implicated in a cover up of his brother's death. Raul Salinas de Gortiari was eventually convicted in ordering the assassination of Jose Francisco Ruiz Massieu. Mr. Salinas was, of course, the older brother of the president of Mexico during that time, Carlos Salinas de Gortiari. Raul Salinas had amassed an illegal fortune of at least the $120million that he had unsuccessfully tried to transfer to Swiss bank accounts. Carlos Salinas's younger brother was eventually assassinated in Mexico City during the time that I was living there for unclear motives probably related to the drug trade. Mario Ruiz Massieu eventually committed suicide with an overdose of painkillers while under house arrest in New Jersey while awaiting a U.S. money laundering trial. In his suicide note he implicated then current president of Mexico Ernesto Zedillo in the corruption. The Mexican government, of course, vociferously denied these accusations.
The Ernesto Zedillo regime appointed General Jesus Gutierrez Rebollo as the new head of the governent's anti-drug division. This was a break from the past as military man was given a position which had previously been a traditionally civilian post. The military was seen at the time as being less corrupt than other sectors of the government and the move was hailed by the U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency. General Barry McCaffrey, the U.S. Drug Czar of the time, praised General Gutierrez as a man of "absolute, unquestioned integrity." He had a reputation for major drug busts and arrest of major traffickers. As it turned out, he had been on the payroll of Amado Carrilo Fuentes, the nations most powerful drug lord of the time, for seven years. He shared information with Carillo and only busted his competitors. At the time, Amado Carrilo Fuentes was estimated to net $10 billion a year. The General also had a penchant for illegally disappearing those who were accused by the government of drug trafficking even if there was no case against them.
Under provisions of the Foreign Assistance Act passed by the U.S. Congress, the U.S. president has until March 1st every year to certify a government as being cooperative in the U.S. Drug War. Nations that are decertified are no longer given U.S., I.M.F., or World Bank assistance. The president also has the option of decertifying but continuing such assistance on the grounds of the wellbeing of a country being of "vital" interest to the U.S. government. Nonetheless, the U.S. continues to certify Mexico and Colombia just like it did at the height of their corruption despite endless years of repetitious subterfuge. These governments don't want to kill the goose that laid the golden egg. When cocaine brings in money from both the U.S. government and the private sector there is just too much money at stake for the Mexican or Colombian government to ever want to truly do away with drug trafficking. There is too much poverty in both of those countries to ever pull the rug out from completely under their economies.
I don't think that the likes of Barry McCaffrey and John Waters are so stupid as to be so naive to government involvement in the drug trade. I think that they have known all along and are probably complicit in the respective Mexican and Colombian schemes. I consider them to be terrorists for their connections to all of these aforementioned people. It is time to end this government sponsored terrorism by ending the drug war.
As cab drivers are universally shady people, I made a deal with one of the drivers to take me somewhere where I could buy weed. I paid the driver a little more than the going rate for a ride to take me somewhere to buy weed and then return me to where we had left from. While buying the "grifa", which I have learned is pretty much universally used throughout Latin America as slang for weed, one of those fucking base smokers jumped in the cab to grovel and beg me for money or some of my weed. I politely said "No, I'm sorry" while I allowed the driver to play bad cop. After not listening to his repeated requests to get out of the mototaxi, the driver threatened the base smoker with a knife and he got out. I was carrying my knife but I prefer not to use it to threaten people unless I am threatened first. As I stated before, the base smoker was grovelling to me rather than try to threaten me so I didn't consider him to be very menacing, just annoying.
The Drug War is still waged internationally by the U.S. government and their international allies, but it still hasn't eliminated my ability to find marijuana in various cities throughout Latin America. I didn't get a whole lot of pot but I only spent $10 on the whole transaction including the cab ride. The fact is that I should be able to go to any store that sells cigarretes and alcohol and buy marijuana for even less than that. I shouldn't have to dodge crackheads and go to dangerous neighborhoods just to buy weed. Marijuana is unfairly compared to harder drugs such as methamphetaminse, cocaine, and heroin when placed into the same category as an illegal drug.
Corruption linked to the Drug War has been in the news recently as it always seems to be as history repeats itself ad nauseam. There is a scandal which has grown to implicate several generals in the Colombian army as well as a larger contingent of mid-ranking and lower level soldiers. It appears that these military personel have been involved in the abduction,murder, and cover-up of what could be several hundred cases in which poor, sometimes homeless men were promised jobs in the military only to be taken to areas that were officially combat zones between the government and the leftist rebels only to be killed and disguised as rebels. In the Colombian military, promotions are often largely based on successful body counts of rebels so several of the mid-level officers received promotions as a result of these war crimes. As the Colombian army is in a war with rebels who traffic cocaine, any corruption in the military is inextricably linked to the drug war.
While corruption is metastasizing throughout the Colombian military, there was news from Mexico that several people who work in the Mexican Attorney General´s office have been caught accepting bribes from drug traffickers to pass them information about raids and other drug trafficking related intelligence. This harkens back to the glory days of the Mexican government's corruption when three successive heads of the nation's chief anti-drug agency were implicated in taking bribes from drug lords. They were Javier Coello Trejo , Mario Ruiz Massieu, and General Jesus Gutierrez Rebollo. It was during this time that the transit routes for the Colombian cartels began to shift through Mexico from the the more traditional Caribbean routes.
Javier Coello Trejo is infamous for other reasons other than accepting bribes to provide information to drug lords. When he was Mexico's equivalent of Drug Czar, several men who were specially vetted and picked to be in his personal security contingent were implicated in a rape scandal. It turns out that they were using government owned police cars and machine guns to abduct, rape, and even kill Mexican women in the southern part of Mexico City. Many feminist groups charged that these crimes would have gone completely unpunished if it wasn't for the fact that several rich girls with political connections were raped by this gang of thugs. There were also allegations that at least one of these policemen was a rampant cokehead. Eventually, Mr. Coello was caught accepting bribes and was forced to resign.
His successor was Mario Ruiz Massieu. He was caught trying to launder $9 million in Texas but wasn't forced from office until he was bizarrely implicated in a cover up of his brother's death. Raul Salinas de Gortiari was eventually convicted in ordering the assassination of Jose Francisco Ruiz Massieu. Mr. Salinas was, of course, the older brother of the president of Mexico during that time, Carlos Salinas de Gortiari. Raul Salinas had amassed an illegal fortune of at least the $120million that he had unsuccessfully tried to transfer to Swiss bank accounts. Carlos Salinas's younger brother was eventually assassinated in Mexico City during the time that I was living there for unclear motives probably related to the drug trade. Mario Ruiz Massieu eventually committed suicide with an overdose of painkillers while under house arrest in New Jersey while awaiting a U.S. money laundering trial. In his suicide note he implicated then current president of Mexico Ernesto Zedillo in the corruption. The Mexican government, of course, vociferously denied these accusations.
The Ernesto Zedillo regime appointed General Jesus Gutierrez Rebollo as the new head of the governent's anti-drug division. This was a break from the past as military man was given a position which had previously been a traditionally civilian post. The military was seen at the time as being less corrupt than other sectors of the government and the move was hailed by the U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency. General Barry McCaffrey, the U.S. Drug Czar of the time, praised General Gutierrez as a man of "absolute, unquestioned integrity." He had a reputation for major drug busts and arrest of major traffickers. As it turned out, he had been on the payroll of Amado Carrilo Fuentes, the nations most powerful drug lord of the time, for seven years. He shared information with Carillo and only busted his competitors. At the time, Amado Carrilo Fuentes was estimated to net $10 billion a year. The General also had a penchant for illegally disappearing those who were accused by the government of drug trafficking even if there was no case against them.
Under provisions of the Foreign Assistance Act passed by the U.S. Congress, the U.S. president has until March 1st every year to certify a government as being cooperative in the U.S. Drug War. Nations that are decertified are no longer given U.S., I.M.F., or World Bank assistance. The president also has the option of decertifying but continuing such assistance on the grounds of the wellbeing of a country being of "vital" interest to the U.S. government. Nonetheless, the U.S. continues to certify Mexico and Colombia just like it did at the height of their corruption despite endless years of repetitious subterfuge. These governments don't want to kill the goose that laid the golden egg. When cocaine brings in money from both the U.S. government and the private sector there is just too much money at stake for the Mexican or Colombian government to ever want to truly do away with drug trafficking. There is too much poverty in both of those countries to ever pull the rug out from completely under their economies.
I don't think that the likes of Barry McCaffrey and John Waters are so stupid as to be so naive to government involvement in the drug trade. I think that they have known all along and are probably complicit in the respective Mexican and Colombian schemes. I consider them to be terrorists for their connections to all of these aforementioned people. It is time to end this government sponsored terrorism by ending the drug war.
Friday, July 18, 2008
To the Land of Toilets that Flush in Both Directions
Days 256-261 I stayed in Medellin
Day 262 ta: 2624 kt:41.5 gps:N 6 degrees 32.323' W 75 degrees 05.291'
Day 263 ta: ta:1302 kt: 50.8 gps: N 6 degrees 27.308' W 75 degrees 18.470'
Day 264 ta: 2074 kt: 37.9 gps: N 6 degrees 30.145' W 74 degrees 49.243'
Day 265 ta: 2618 kt: 80.7 gps: N 6 degrees 28.619' W 74 degrees 14.093'
Day 266 ta: 1393 kt: 70.6 gps: N 6 degrees 51.636' W 73 degrees 45.993'
Day 267 ta: 2053 kt: 59.7 gps: N 7 degrees 06.284' W 73 degrees 24.533'
Day 268 ta: 4836 kt: 60.1 gps: N 7 degrees 06.561' W 73 degrees 07.058'
Days 269 and 270 I stayed in Bucaramanga
I ended up staying in Medellin a little bit longer than I expected. The weather there is perfect. This is the reason it is often called "The City of Eternal Spring". I didn't really do much other than go see some bands during a free music festival. Medellin has some talented musicians though I guess this is to be expected from such a large city.
Sometimes it seems kind of weird staying in a hostel. I go from speaking Spanish exclusively to almost exclusively speaking English. It is actually quite possible to travel through Latin America with very little Spanish. All you have to do is hop from one hostel to another.
I am beginning to think of travelers as a small community of people. It is surprising how often I see some of the same people in different cities. I even hear about news affecting travelers through word-of-mouth. Case in point: when a jeep carrying a bunch of Japanese tourists collided with a jeep carrying a bunch of Israeli tourists killing all but one, I heard about it from other travelers first.
The mountains between Medellin and Bucaramanga are not as tall as I expected. What is strange is that I prefer taller mountains because it is a whole lot cooler. I seem to get a new rash every time I enter tropical lowlands. This time it is on the back of my thighs which is more pleasant than other places I have had them.
I followed several river valleys from Medellin to Bucaramanga. The Medellin River is a large raging torrent that doesn't seem like it could ever be tamed. It goes through a concrete channel when passing through Medellin, picking up a lot of trash along the way. It may be an ugly river but I was nevertheless awed by its power. The Nus River is much prettier and cleaner than the Medellin River. At its most beautiful point comes cascading down the side of a mountain right outside of a town called Cisneros. There is another nice river gorge right outside of Bucaramanga but I don't know its name.
Day 271 ta:1560 kt:25.8 gps: N 6º55.777' W 73º00.839'
There have been several items in the news that have caught my eye. The first is that the Colombian government managed to rescue Ingrid Betancourt and a little more than a dozen other prisoners from the F.A.R.C. She was, by far, the most high profile kidnap victim that was held by them and was a major bargaining chip for the release of F.A.R.C. prisoners held by the Colombian and U.S. governments. Now the F.A.R.C. can focus on what they do best which is trafficking cocaine.
The other items in the news that I thought were interesting was the separate reports that Barack Obama wants to expand government subsidies for faith based programs, and that he now supports warrantless wiretapping and has voted to grant immunity to the telecommunications companies that acted in collusion with the Bush administration in allowing illegal wiretaps to occur. I don't know why the left of the Democratic Party likes this guy so much. He is just as bad as the Clintons.
Day 272 ta:4543 kt: 46.3 gps: N 6º41.182' W 73º02.033'
In my travels I go through many places that seem ordinary, for lack of a better word. For example, the cattle ranches throughout Latin America are often very much the same.They are sometimes on flat land and sometimes on rolling hills. Regardless, they are always in a place where all or most of the trees have been cut down. Cattle ranches dominate the areas which I have traveled through on most of this trip. Needless to say, I have grown bored of riding by so many cattle ranches, not to mention that this makes finding a decent campsite harder to do.
The Chicamocha Canyon is not an ordinary place, not by any means. The peaks of the mountains rise imposingly high above the valley floor. Large parts of the mountains remain untouched because their slopes are too steep for farming, ranching, or building just about anything. The road that travels through this area winds down into and then back out of the valley. It is stunningly beautiful here and, hence, well worth the seemingly never-ending ascents.
It is these ascents coupled with the daily rain showers that begin around 3:00 p.m. that make me question my undying faith in the viability of commuting by bicycle in mountainous areas. The fact is, though, that the era of cheap petroleum is coming to an end and the people that live in these areas are going to have to come up with something to replace internal combustion transportation. Doing this without contributing to global warming will be a challenge as well. If we use electric cars we will be consuming more electricity and hence putting more carbon dioxide into the atmosphere as much of that electricity will come from natural gas or coal burning power plants. The same is true for hydrogen fuel cell technology because of the fact that hydrogen may be universally abundant but it is almost always chemically bonded to another element and requires energy, hence electricity, to separate the hydrogen from it chemical bonds and make a useable fuel.
Generating the electricity we consume now is difficult, if not impossible, using non-atmosphere-altering, renewable energy sources. Imagine how difficult it will be doing this if all of earth's petroleum dependent planes, cars, trucks, trains, boats, war machines, construction machinery, and agricultural machinery were plugged in to the grid. Nuclear energy is not a viable option. If it were the nuclear powers of the world would have no problem with Iran developing their nuclear energy program.
It all comes back to reducing our energy consumption and I think more widespread use of the bicycle can help us do that. Sooner or later, people are going to have to give up their cars as it will be prohibitively expensive not to mention damaging to the environment for them to continue using them. If $4.00 a gallon gasoline is enough to make Americans give up their trucks and S.U.V.s just wait to see what will happen by 2050 when the earth's population is supposed to reach 9 billion people and gas will cost who knows what. At least some of those 3 billion extra people will probably want to drive effectively negating the gas savings from switching from an S.U.V. to a car. I keep pedalling away, astonished by the insanity of it all. If people ever wonder why I am crazy enough to ride my bike as far as I have, this is why. I don't ever want to own a car. I don't want to be part of the problem but rather part of the solution. I don't want to be part of a dying tribe but rather a part of a flourishing tribe. With all of these future energy challenges we face there is a reason to be optimistic. All the scrap metal coming onto the market from all of the soon-to-be obsolete tanks should actually bring down the cost of producing a bicycle. I wonder how many bicycle frames you can make using the metal from one tank.
In the U.S. a woman recently died while waiting for medical assistence in a hospital waiting room. This contrasts with a woman in Ibague, Colombia who gave birth on the street because she couldn't afford to do so in a hospital. Having no access to health care is one of the dangers that much of the world's poor suffer from. We should all be so horrified of these events happening that we work to increase the availability of health care everywhere. I can't believe that their are people who actually believe that the for-profit health system actually functions.
Day 273 ta:1567 kt:46.2 gps: N 6 degrees 28.136' W 73 degrees 15.732'
Day 274 and 275 I stayed in Socorro
I ended up staying in Socorro longer than I originally planned because my right hip stiffened up to the point where I was walking with a slight limp. Waking up with gastrointestinal issues the day after a full day of rest caused me to rest one more day. I left Socorro this morning with the same sore hip. I plan to take it easy today and try to stretch out my hip by riding my bicycle. All in all, this is not a serious problem but I am being extra cautious since I should be doing some grueling mountain climbing in the next four days.
When I was in Socorro, I found myself watching the National Geographic Channel on television. Don't get me wrong, the National Geographic has long been a respected institution but there are some shows on that channel that make me want to spit. I was especially disgusted by the show about Ewan Mcgregor and his friend who are travelling through Africa by motorbike. I have respect for people that go on motorcycle tours but I don't have this same respect for Ewan McGregor. He is taking not one but two Land Rovers along for support. He went through a simulated hostage experience and has a personal trainer but he didn't seem to want learn any basic first aid or take any language training. Moreover, his handlers did all the paperwork in advance. Even if you do all of the paperwork in advance, you will still be taken for a loop at every border crossing. I also think that he exaggerates the dangers of his undertaking. I am currently travelling through a part of the world that has a bad reputation for violence but it has been mostly tranquil thus far. Yes, there are soldiers and police everywhere but Coca-Cola deliverymen don't have shotgun-wielding security guards like they do in Guatemala or Honduras. I personally consider the Mara Salvatrucha to be a bigger threat than the F.A.R.C. My favorite quote of Ewan McGregor is, " I feel like I am on a ride with my mates." You are on a ride with your mates, dipshit! I could cycle around the world five times with the amount of money that he is probably spending on his three month trip.
Day 276 ta:3517 kt:44.9 gps: N 6 degrees 08.802' W 73 degrees 20.883'
Day 277 ta: 3053 kt:49 gps: N 5 degrees 55.752' W 73 degrees 37.076'
Day 278 I stayed in Barbosa
Day 279 ta: 3837 kt:49.9 gps: N 5 degrees 37.063' W 73 degrees 48.939'
It took a while for my hip to finally loosen up. This is a recurring problem that I have had to deal with in the past but this is the first time that I have had to deal with this on the road. When my hip stiffens up it never seems to be caused by any external injury. It usually happens when I sleep in a bad position. Anyway, after taking it easy for the last couple of days, my hip has finally completely loosened up. The bicycle is such a wonderful invention. It is like a leg stretching machine.
Spending time in the small mountain towns in Colombia is a very eye-opening experience. It seems like the American media is always pushing the idea that the rest of the world is so poor and dangerous. The truth of the matter is apparent if you spend any time at all in small Colombian towns. Children run around unattended. Everyone seems to be well fed and well clothed. Whole towns walk around the city centers and socialize with their neighbors. Everyone seems to know everyone else. I feel safer in these places than I feel in many places in the United States. Sometimes, I can't help but think the whole idea of American exceptionalism is a load of shit.
At 8,500 feet it is surprisingly chilly. It is always surprising to have to wear a jacket when you are in the tropics. I finally topped out today on my way to Bogotà. I am in the town of Chiquinquira and I will head to Bogotà soon.
Day 280 ta:1229 kt:35.2 gps: N 5º25.986' W 73º45.276'
I have been slacking off way too much. I have not even come close to my maximum capabilities for at least two weeks. Because of my laziness I am going to have to extend my visa in Bogotà. Tomorrow, I will make myself ride to Bogotà no matter how many hills are in the way.
Day 281 ta:3328 kt:113 gps: N 4º35.990' W 74º04.116'
Day 282-286 I stayed in Bogotà
Day 287 ta:2043 kt:67.8 gps: N 4º21.704' W 74º22.819'
Day 288 ta:1947 kt:91 gps:N 4º13.825' W 74º50.480'
Coming into Bogotà from the north, I began to wonder when I was going to reach the city. I kept on seeing signs that indicated that Bogotà was less than 10 kilometers away but it still seemed pretty rural. Then as I topped out over a hill I saw it: a damned big city. I entered the city around 186th street and the place where I wanted to stay was at 16th street so I still had some riding to do. About 30 blocks away from the hostel where I wanted to stay, my front shifter broke. This is not as bad as breaking my rear shifter. I was still able to ride up hills and I made it to the hostel, albeit more slowly.
By the time I finish this trip, I will probably have replaced every single part on my bicycle at least once. I was expecting to have to pay $100 for a new pair of shifters but this ended up costing $400 after labor was included. My new shifters are much nicer than my old ones. For all you gearheads out there, I upgraded from Shimano Tiagra to Shimano Ultegra. The shifting on my bike is much smoother now. I was also lucky enough to find new bike tires after going to about a dozen bike stores. My tires are already going bald again so this is a relief.
Bogotà is a massive city filled with street performers, graffiti, big buildings, and lots of traffic. The graffiti and street performers are both high quality. It is amazing how well the people juggling for change can juggle. Most of the graffiti is really colorful and psychaedelic. Even though it is illegal, many people brazenly smoke weed in the streets. There are a whole bunch of rastas that sell stuff in one of the central plazas. I almost bought a Marcus Garvey hat but then I thought it would look funny to see a white boy wearing a black power hat.
When I finally left the city after six days of chilling out, I still had to ride over 20 kilometers just to leave the metropolitan area. After topping out at just over 9,000 feet, I descended over 8,000 the next two days. Some of the scenery along the highway outside of the town of Melgar, Colombia was so spectacular that I had to stop just to take it in. It is no longer cold but uncomfortably hot. The mosquitoes are back in force. I can't wait to ride into the mountains again.
Day 289 ta:3022 kt:64.2 gps: N 4 degrees 26.290' W 75 degrees 14.159'
Day 290 ta:3994 kt:39.6 gps: N 4 degrees 26.095' W 75 degrees 27.954'
Day 291 ta:3905 kt:50.3 gps: N 4 degrees 29.181' W 75 degrees 41.967'
I just spent the last two and half days climbing uphill. Austin doesn't have hills that come even close to the hills that I have to climb in Colombia. The longest I have to spend climbing any hill in Austin is no more than 30 minutes. The first 4,000 feet of climbing in the tropics is always the hardest to climb. Not only are you ascending but you have to do so in tropical heat. On the first day of climbing, I had hit my wall by the time I reached the city of Ibague, Colombia. I ended up staying in Ibague for the night because I wanted to recuperate my strength for the strenuous climbing that I knew lay ahead.
As usual when I stay at a hotel, I didn't leave Ibague until midday and I didn't get as much riding in as I wanted to. I ended up not finding a good campsite until after dark. After worrying my poor little head off, I lucked into finding an abandoned house on the side of the road. I felt very fortunate because almost all of the land on the side of the road is sloped. All the of the flat land is already monopolized.
I finally made it to the top today, topping out at about 10,800 feet. It was cold and windy at the top. The wind was so strong that it redirected me several times when I was going downhill. Believe me, I do not like being redirected by wind when I am moving at 60 kilometers per hour. It is always very scary. The descent was long and I must have passed at least 30 semis on the way down the hill.
When I reached the town of Calarca, Colombia at the bottom of the hill, I was given a total rock star treatment. A news crew happened upon me and interviewed me and then I must have been surrounded by 20 people, all of them asking questions, at a restuarant that I ate at. I don't mind being a rock star for a day or two but I sure do love my anonymity and privacy.
Day 292 ta:1908 kt:67.4 gps: N 4 degrees 12.286' W 76 degrees 09.016'
Day 293 ta:2081 kt:117 gps: N 3 degrees 26.794' W 75 degrees 32.416'
Day 294 ta: 948 kt:54.7 gps: N 3 degrees 01.266' W 76 degrees 29.959'
I am in sugarcane country. There are warning signs for el tren cañelero or sugarcane train. At first, when I saw these signs I was confused because I didn't see any tracks but then I saw a semi with four trailers full of sugarcane and I figured out what it was. Sugarcane is grown everywhere here as far as the eye can see. I have really come to enjoy a drink here called guarapo which is made of pressed sugar cane juice and squeezed lime juice and cooled with ice. For a little more than 50 cents, it is a very tasty, cheap, and refreshing beverage. While eating my dinner today, the people at the place that had the food gave me some sugarcane to chew on. Sugarcane is so ubiquitous that everyone seems to just have some lying around.
The day before yesterday was one of those days where mechanical issues slowed me down. My real gears were slipping so much that I saw as necessary to stop and try to fix this issue. After fiddling around with the limiting screws on my derailers for at least an hour, I was able to solve the problem.
When I came into Calì, Colombia, I had ridden 110 kilomers by 2:00 p.m. I was hungry because I hadn't eaten in the last 80 kilometers. My breakfast was delicious and filling enough that I was able to ride a long distance without eating again. I had lechona for the first time. Lechona is a whole pig that is stuffed with rice and more pork and then baked. Mmmmm!
My lunch was the typical fair which includes soup, meat, rice, beans, fried bananas, a salad, and a drink which is usually limeade but can often be something more exotic such as maracuya juice. The main thing that I like about these meals is that they are large and pack in a lot of calories and liquids for me to make it through these long, hot days.
After eating lunch, I was headed to an internet cafe to look for a place to stay for the night when I ran into a couple of teenagers who were smoking weed. They got me high and helped me find more weed.
The place I stayed in Calì is in a nice neighborhood that has a park on a hill overlooking the city. The park is filled with people on Friday nights. There are aspiring musicians playing music for their friends on the hillside, little children sliding down a sidewalk in milkcrates, comedians, and lots of merchants selling their wares.
When I was smoking out on the hillside in the morning, some woman found two boxes filled with kittens. They were all healthy and cute as hell. I helped the woman carry the boxes to a dog groomer where they were going to stay for a while.
I didn't leave Calì until midday but I wanted to stay longer so I could explore the zoo and find some cool graffiti. Alas, I do not have that much time remaining on my visa and I don't want to pay 30 dollars for another two months when I would only be in Colombia a few days longer. I am trying to get past the border with Ecuador at the beginning of August which isn't too far away.
Today clouds started rolling in after dinner but I was able to find a good place to pitch my tent with enough time to watch the storm before it hit. A thunderstorm in the mountains is often a beautiful thing if you aren't stuck in the middle of it.
Day 295 ta:5831 kt:82.5 gps: N 2 degrees 26.780' W 76 degrees 36.519'
Riding along the highway, I see many different kinds of buses. By far the king of style among all the buses is the Colombian chiva. They are dripping in style, so much so that they put even the Guatemalan chicken buses to shame. Made using American buses no younger than 20 years old, the roof is reinforced, the walls and seats are removed and replaced with bench seating with no doors, there is an extra-heavy duty reinforced bumper, and the whole body of the bus is painted in intricate patterns. As the buses pass by, there are often people or merchandise hanging off the bumper. I once even saw one pass by with a dog curled up on the bumper. There is a large bamboo beam that goes across the roof so a tarp can be hung over the roof which carries all the luggage that ranges from sacks of potatoes to motorcycles and everything in between. Sometimes they are rocking some bad ass cumbias when I pass them. Sadly, they are mostly a relic of the past and they have been largely replaced by more conventional buses.
Day 296 ta:3263 kt:57 gps: N 2 degrees 12.146' W 76 degrees 48.920'
Day 297 ta:2150 kt:54.8 gps: N 1 degree 56.684' W 77 degrees 08.195'
Day 298 ta:2856 kt:49 gps: N 1 degree 40.570' W 77 degrees 19.759'
Day 299 ta:5576 kt:51 gps:N 1 degree 26.271' W 77 degrees 16.763'
Day 300 ta:4534 kt:38.3 gps: N 1 degree 11.490' W 77 degrees 16.766'
Day 301 ta:6593 kt:78.4 gps: N 0 degrees 49.819' W 77 degrees 37.960'
Day 302 ta:891 kt:12.6 gps: N 0 degrees 48.117' W 77 degrees 43.320'
The part of Colombia taht is close to the border with Ecuador is spectacularly beautiful. The mountains are massive and they are cut through by many deep river gorges. This does, unfortunately mean that there is a lot of hill climbing but I can deal with that. Considering that I am no more than 100 kilometers from the equator, it is surprisingly cold.
I met yet another person who is riding his bicycle to Southern Argentina. His name is Tom Snyder a.k.a. the bicycle comedian. I personally think that riding a bicycle is more fun than funny but he has made a living as a comedian for the last couple of decades and I respect that. He usually rides from gig to gig around the world on his bicycle. In his act, he rides up onstage. He has amassed an impressive number of miles on his many journeys. It was fun riding with him. We split up at the border because I knew that having overstayed my visa that I was going to be delayed at the border and I didn't want to get him in trouble.
I tried to make it to the border on time but the mountains slowed me down. When I arrived in Ipiales, Cololbia on the border with Ecuador, I thought that I had already overstayed my visa so I just got a hotel room and decided to deal with it the next day. When I arrived at the border crossing, I found out that I had overstayed my visa by exactly one day and that this was going to cost me $100. Doh!!! To officially deal with this problem, one has to pay a fine at a bank and receive a stamp in the passport. However, since it was a Sunday and all the banks were closed, I took the unofficial route and bribed the border officials to erase all the records of my being in Colombia so I could receive my exit stamp before I entered Ecuador. I am not happy about dropping a C-note to deal with this but I figure my idiotic government will find some way to devalue my savings by at least that amount in a couple of weeks.
Day 303 ta:3341 kt:59.5 gps: N 0º30.680' W 77º55.320'
I had a miserable, rainy start for my day today. At 9,000+ feet the rain is always cold. After sitting in my tent for a while, I finally decided that the rain wasn't going to let up any time soon so I put on my rain gear, packed up my gear and, rolled up my wet tent. There is a phenomenon that I am finding thoroughly annoying: all of the zippers on my rain gear have become so calcified that none of them work. I can usually get the zippers to work after some effort, but, this morning, I ripped the handle off of one of my zippers while trying to close my pocket. To add to the pleasure of the day, I pulled a muscle in my left thigh after I slipped under my bike before I had even started riding for the day. It was not a bad pull, though, and the sun came out around midday so I was able to enjoy my ride.
One of the things that I love about Latin America is that you can blatantly tresspass on someone's property and they are cool with it. After I pitched my tent tonight, a man with a rifle walked up. I was startled because I thought that I was well hidden. I showed him my hands and told him that I was unarmed. I then told him that I saw clouds coming in from behind and I had to quickly choose a place to erect my tent for the night. He told me not to worry and to sleep well. This was definitely nice because I was planning to pack up my stuff and leave before sunrise. This way, if it is raining in the morning, I can take my time.
Day 304 ta:3577 kt:65.2 gps: N 0º21.607' W 78º07.282'
Day 305 ta:2522 kt:37.5 gps: N 0º10.257' W 78º12.414'
Though I love long fast descents, the change in temperature can be annoying. When I woke up two days ago it was cold and I didn't want to get out of my sleeping bag. After zooming down a mountain, I was in a desert valley and I had to strip off all of my winter gear and my full length tights. I then ascended back into the mountains and had to stop again because it was getting cold. I stopped in the city of Ibarra, Ecuador because I had an upset stomach and I didn't feel like dealing with digestive issues while camping.
I am camped at 9,000 feet again right now and it is cold again. I should make it to Quito tomorrow and I am hoping that I don't have to deal with any major elevation changes.
I don't know when they decided it was their official hat but the indigenous Ecuadorans like to wear a hat that looks like a cross between a fedora and a stove-pipe hat. After passing through some mostly black areas in sugar cane growing regions I am just to the north of Quito where everyone seems to have a more indigenous appearance.
Ecuador is dirt cheap. If you spend more than $2 on a meal, you should expect a feast. The hotel I stayed at in Ibarra was a "luxury hotel" that cost $7 a night. It was a pretty nice place that would have easily cost at least $60 a night if it were in the U.S. If an Ecuadoran was working in the U.S. for $6 an hour, there first two hours would probably pay for all the rent and daily expenditures and the rest would be icing on the cake.
Day 307 ta:6075 kt:89.8 gps: S 0º12.187´W 78º 29.233'
I finally crossed the equator on the way to Quito. There are no offical markers on the highway which was surprising. I spent yet another day going through large temperature changes as I would go from higher elevation to lower elevation and back again. My friend Luis was, ironically, in the city I had left from in the morning when I called him from Quito so I had to get a hotel for the night.
I am staying at Luis's house. I met him when I was going to the University of Texas and he was also attending school there. He is from Guayaquil, Ecuador originally but moved to Quito about three years ago. He is currently opening up the first headshop in all of Quito. He has told me that he has the only store in the country that sells bongs. Right now at his place, there are hundreds of bongs and pipes spread all over his tables.
I am happy to report that one can find pretty good weed in Ecuador. It doesn't smell or taste as nice as what I am used to smoking in Austin but it has no seeds and packs a punch. We have been smoking out of a bong which he smuggled into Ecuador from the U.S. by airplane. He left it at his mother's house for the longest time and told her that it was a flower vase. He told me that he thinks about 5% of Quito gets high so he may be on to something by opening up his headshop. I have never had so much hope for capitalism to succeed.
We made some tea out of San Pedro cactus and went wild. San Pedro cactus has trace amounts of mescaline, which is the psychoactive substance in peyote, in the skin. San Pedro grows all over the place in Ecuador and many people have it their doorways because it is the "guardian of the doorway to heavan." Preparation requires a lot of time and a lot of patience. I spent several hours peeling the outer layer of skin of the cactus cylinders and despining them before we boiled the skin several times to make a very concentrated tea. The trip was strong compared to the peyote I ate in Mexico which surprised me because the mescaline is more concentrated in peyote. We are talking about going camping with a bunch of this tea. Good fun.
Day 262 ta: 2624 kt:41.5 gps:N 6 degrees 32.323' W 75 degrees 05.291'
Day 263 ta: ta:1302 kt: 50.8 gps: N 6 degrees 27.308' W 75 degrees 18.470'
Day 264 ta: 2074 kt: 37.9 gps: N 6 degrees 30.145' W 74 degrees 49.243'
Day 265 ta: 2618 kt: 80.7 gps: N 6 degrees 28.619' W 74 degrees 14.093'
Day 266 ta: 1393 kt: 70.6 gps: N 6 degrees 51.636' W 73 degrees 45.993'
Day 267 ta: 2053 kt: 59.7 gps: N 7 degrees 06.284' W 73 degrees 24.533'
Day 268 ta: 4836 kt: 60.1 gps: N 7 degrees 06.561' W 73 degrees 07.058'
Days 269 and 270 I stayed in Bucaramanga
I ended up staying in Medellin a little bit longer than I expected. The weather there is perfect. This is the reason it is often called "The City of Eternal Spring". I didn't really do much other than go see some bands during a free music festival. Medellin has some talented musicians though I guess this is to be expected from such a large city.
Sometimes it seems kind of weird staying in a hostel. I go from speaking Spanish exclusively to almost exclusively speaking English. It is actually quite possible to travel through Latin America with very little Spanish. All you have to do is hop from one hostel to another.
I am beginning to think of travelers as a small community of people. It is surprising how often I see some of the same people in different cities. I even hear about news affecting travelers through word-of-mouth. Case in point: when a jeep carrying a bunch of Japanese tourists collided with a jeep carrying a bunch of Israeli tourists killing all but one, I heard about it from other travelers first.
The mountains between Medellin and Bucaramanga are not as tall as I expected. What is strange is that I prefer taller mountains because it is a whole lot cooler. I seem to get a new rash every time I enter tropical lowlands. This time it is on the back of my thighs which is more pleasant than other places I have had them.
I followed several river valleys from Medellin to Bucaramanga. The Medellin River is a large raging torrent that doesn't seem like it could ever be tamed. It goes through a concrete channel when passing through Medellin, picking up a lot of trash along the way. It may be an ugly river but I was nevertheless awed by its power. The Nus River is much prettier and cleaner than the Medellin River. At its most beautiful point comes cascading down the side of a mountain right outside of a town called Cisneros. There is another nice river gorge right outside of Bucaramanga but I don't know its name.
Day 271 ta:1560 kt:25.8 gps: N 6º55.777' W 73º00.839'
There have been several items in the news that have caught my eye. The first is that the Colombian government managed to rescue Ingrid Betancourt and a little more than a dozen other prisoners from the F.A.R.C. She was, by far, the most high profile kidnap victim that was held by them and was a major bargaining chip for the release of F.A.R.C. prisoners held by the Colombian and U.S. governments. Now the F.A.R.C. can focus on what they do best which is trafficking cocaine.
The other items in the news that I thought were interesting was the separate reports that Barack Obama wants to expand government subsidies for faith based programs, and that he now supports warrantless wiretapping and has voted to grant immunity to the telecommunications companies that acted in collusion with the Bush administration in allowing illegal wiretaps to occur. I don't know why the left of the Democratic Party likes this guy so much. He is just as bad as the Clintons.
Day 272 ta:4543 kt: 46.3 gps: N 6º41.182' W 73º02.033'
In my travels I go through many places that seem ordinary, for lack of a better word. For example, the cattle ranches throughout Latin America are often very much the same.They are sometimes on flat land and sometimes on rolling hills. Regardless, they are always in a place where all or most of the trees have been cut down. Cattle ranches dominate the areas which I have traveled through on most of this trip. Needless to say, I have grown bored of riding by so many cattle ranches, not to mention that this makes finding a decent campsite harder to do.
The Chicamocha Canyon is not an ordinary place, not by any means. The peaks of the mountains rise imposingly high above the valley floor. Large parts of the mountains remain untouched because their slopes are too steep for farming, ranching, or building just about anything. The road that travels through this area winds down into and then back out of the valley. It is stunningly beautiful here and, hence, well worth the seemingly never-ending ascents.
It is these ascents coupled with the daily rain showers that begin around 3:00 p.m. that make me question my undying faith in the viability of commuting by bicycle in mountainous areas. The fact is, though, that the era of cheap petroleum is coming to an end and the people that live in these areas are going to have to come up with something to replace internal combustion transportation. Doing this without contributing to global warming will be a challenge as well. If we use electric cars we will be consuming more electricity and hence putting more carbon dioxide into the atmosphere as much of that electricity will come from natural gas or coal burning power plants. The same is true for hydrogen fuel cell technology because of the fact that hydrogen may be universally abundant but it is almost always chemically bonded to another element and requires energy, hence electricity, to separate the hydrogen from it chemical bonds and make a useable fuel.
Generating the electricity we consume now is difficult, if not impossible, using non-atmosphere-altering, renewable energy sources. Imagine how difficult it will be doing this if all of earth's petroleum dependent planes, cars, trucks, trains, boats, war machines, construction machinery, and agricultural machinery were plugged in to the grid. Nuclear energy is not a viable option. If it were the nuclear powers of the world would have no problem with Iran developing their nuclear energy program.
It all comes back to reducing our energy consumption and I think more widespread use of the bicycle can help us do that. Sooner or later, people are going to have to give up their cars as it will be prohibitively expensive not to mention damaging to the environment for them to continue using them. If $4.00 a gallon gasoline is enough to make Americans give up their trucks and S.U.V.s just wait to see what will happen by 2050 when the earth's population is supposed to reach 9 billion people and gas will cost who knows what. At least some of those 3 billion extra people will probably want to drive effectively negating the gas savings from switching from an S.U.V. to a car. I keep pedalling away, astonished by the insanity of it all. If people ever wonder why I am crazy enough to ride my bike as far as I have, this is why. I don't ever want to own a car. I don't want to be part of the problem but rather part of the solution. I don't want to be part of a dying tribe but rather a part of a flourishing tribe. With all of these future energy challenges we face there is a reason to be optimistic. All the scrap metal coming onto the market from all of the soon-to-be obsolete tanks should actually bring down the cost of producing a bicycle. I wonder how many bicycle frames you can make using the metal from one tank.
In the U.S. a woman recently died while waiting for medical assistence in a hospital waiting room. This contrasts with a woman in Ibague, Colombia who gave birth on the street because she couldn't afford to do so in a hospital. Having no access to health care is one of the dangers that much of the world's poor suffer from. We should all be so horrified of these events happening that we work to increase the availability of health care everywhere. I can't believe that their are people who actually believe that the for-profit health system actually functions.
Day 273 ta:1567 kt:46.2 gps: N 6 degrees 28.136' W 73 degrees 15.732'
Day 274 and 275 I stayed in Socorro
I ended up staying in Socorro longer than I originally planned because my right hip stiffened up to the point where I was walking with a slight limp. Waking up with gastrointestinal issues the day after a full day of rest caused me to rest one more day. I left Socorro this morning with the same sore hip. I plan to take it easy today and try to stretch out my hip by riding my bicycle. All in all, this is not a serious problem but I am being extra cautious since I should be doing some grueling mountain climbing in the next four days.
When I was in Socorro, I found myself watching the National Geographic Channel on television. Don't get me wrong, the National Geographic has long been a respected institution but there are some shows on that channel that make me want to spit. I was especially disgusted by the show about Ewan Mcgregor and his friend who are travelling through Africa by motorbike. I have respect for people that go on motorcycle tours but I don't have this same respect for Ewan McGregor. He is taking not one but two Land Rovers along for support. He went through a simulated hostage experience and has a personal trainer but he didn't seem to want learn any basic first aid or take any language training. Moreover, his handlers did all the paperwork in advance. Even if you do all of the paperwork in advance, you will still be taken for a loop at every border crossing. I also think that he exaggerates the dangers of his undertaking. I am currently travelling through a part of the world that has a bad reputation for violence but it has been mostly tranquil thus far. Yes, there are soldiers and police everywhere but Coca-Cola deliverymen don't have shotgun-wielding security guards like they do in Guatemala or Honduras. I personally consider the Mara Salvatrucha to be a bigger threat than the F.A.R.C. My favorite quote of Ewan McGregor is, " I feel like I am on a ride with my mates." You are on a ride with your mates, dipshit! I could cycle around the world five times with the amount of money that he is probably spending on his three month trip.
Day 276 ta:3517 kt:44.9 gps: N 6 degrees 08.802' W 73 degrees 20.883'
Day 277 ta: 3053 kt:49 gps: N 5 degrees 55.752' W 73 degrees 37.076'
Day 278 I stayed in Barbosa
Day 279 ta: 3837 kt:49.9 gps: N 5 degrees 37.063' W 73 degrees 48.939'
It took a while for my hip to finally loosen up. This is a recurring problem that I have had to deal with in the past but this is the first time that I have had to deal with this on the road. When my hip stiffens up it never seems to be caused by any external injury. It usually happens when I sleep in a bad position. Anyway, after taking it easy for the last couple of days, my hip has finally completely loosened up. The bicycle is such a wonderful invention. It is like a leg stretching machine.
Spending time in the small mountain towns in Colombia is a very eye-opening experience. It seems like the American media is always pushing the idea that the rest of the world is so poor and dangerous. The truth of the matter is apparent if you spend any time at all in small Colombian towns. Children run around unattended. Everyone seems to be well fed and well clothed. Whole towns walk around the city centers and socialize with their neighbors. Everyone seems to know everyone else. I feel safer in these places than I feel in many places in the United States. Sometimes, I can't help but think the whole idea of American exceptionalism is a load of shit.
At 8,500 feet it is surprisingly chilly. It is always surprising to have to wear a jacket when you are in the tropics. I finally topped out today on my way to Bogotà. I am in the town of Chiquinquira and I will head to Bogotà soon.
Day 280 ta:1229 kt:35.2 gps: N 5º25.986' W 73º45.276'
I have been slacking off way too much. I have not even come close to my maximum capabilities for at least two weeks. Because of my laziness I am going to have to extend my visa in Bogotà. Tomorrow, I will make myself ride to Bogotà no matter how many hills are in the way.
Day 281 ta:3328 kt:113 gps: N 4º35.990' W 74º04.116'
Day 282-286 I stayed in Bogotà
Day 287 ta:2043 kt:67.8 gps: N 4º21.704' W 74º22.819'
Day 288 ta:1947 kt:91 gps:N 4º13.825' W 74º50.480'
Coming into Bogotà from the north, I began to wonder when I was going to reach the city. I kept on seeing signs that indicated that Bogotà was less than 10 kilometers away but it still seemed pretty rural. Then as I topped out over a hill I saw it: a damned big city. I entered the city around 186th street and the place where I wanted to stay was at 16th street so I still had some riding to do. About 30 blocks away from the hostel where I wanted to stay, my front shifter broke. This is not as bad as breaking my rear shifter. I was still able to ride up hills and I made it to the hostel, albeit more slowly.
By the time I finish this trip, I will probably have replaced every single part on my bicycle at least once. I was expecting to have to pay $100 for a new pair of shifters but this ended up costing $400 after labor was included. My new shifters are much nicer than my old ones. For all you gearheads out there, I upgraded from Shimano Tiagra to Shimano Ultegra. The shifting on my bike is much smoother now. I was also lucky enough to find new bike tires after going to about a dozen bike stores. My tires are already going bald again so this is a relief.
Bogotà is a massive city filled with street performers, graffiti, big buildings, and lots of traffic. The graffiti and street performers are both high quality. It is amazing how well the people juggling for change can juggle. Most of the graffiti is really colorful and psychaedelic. Even though it is illegal, many people brazenly smoke weed in the streets. There are a whole bunch of rastas that sell stuff in one of the central plazas. I almost bought a Marcus Garvey hat but then I thought it would look funny to see a white boy wearing a black power hat.
When I finally left the city after six days of chilling out, I still had to ride over 20 kilometers just to leave the metropolitan area. After topping out at just over 9,000 feet, I descended over 8,000 the next two days. Some of the scenery along the highway outside of the town of Melgar, Colombia was so spectacular that I had to stop just to take it in. It is no longer cold but uncomfortably hot. The mosquitoes are back in force. I can't wait to ride into the mountains again.
Day 289 ta:3022 kt:64.2 gps: N 4 degrees 26.290' W 75 degrees 14.159'
Day 290 ta:3994 kt:39.6 gps: N 4 degrees 26.095' W 75 degrees 27.954'
Day 291 ta:3905 kt:50.3 gps: N 4 degrees 29.181' W 75 degrees 41.967'
I just spent the last two and half days climbing uphill. Austin doesn't have hills that come even close to the hills that I have to climb in Colombia. The longest I have to spend climbing any hill in Austin is no more than 30 minutes. The first 4,000 feet of climbing in the tropics is always the hardest to climb. Not only are you ascending but you have to do so in tropical heat. On the first day of climbing, I had hit my wall by the time I reached the city of Ibague, Colombia. I ended up staying in Ibague for the night because I wanted to recuperate my strength for the strenuous climbing that I knew lay ahead.
As usual when I stay at a hotel, I didn't leave Ibague until midday and I didn't get as much riding in as I wanted to. I ended up not finding a good campsite until after dark. After worrying my poor little head off, I lucked into finding an abandoned house on the side of the road. I felt very fortunate because almost all of the land on the side of the road is sloped. All the of the flat land is already monopolized.
I finally made it to the top today, topping out at about 10,800 feet. It was cold and windy at the top. The wind was so strong that it redirected me several times when I was going downhill. Believe me, I do not like being redirected by wind when I am moving at 60 kilometers per hour. It is always very scary. The descent was long and I must have passed at least 30 semis on the way down the hill.
When I reached the town of Calarca, Colombia at the bottom of the hill, I was given a total rock star treatment. A news crew happened upon me and interviewed me and then I must have been surrounded by 20 people, all of them asking questions, at a restuarant that I ate at. I don't mind being a rock star for a day or two but I sure do love my anonymity and privacy.
Day 292 ta:1908 kt:67.4 gps: N 4 degrees 12.286' W 76 degrees 09.016'
Day 293 ta:2081 kt:117 gps: N 3 degrees 26.794' W 75 degrees 32.416'
Day 294 ta: 948 kt:54.7 gps: N 3 degrees 01.266' W 76 degrees 29.959'
I am in sugarcane country. There are warning signs for el tren cañelero or sugarcane train. At first, when I saw these signs I was confused because I didn't see any tracks but then I saw a semi with four trailers full of sugarcane and I figured out what it was. Sugarcane is grown everywhere here as far as the eye can see. I have really come to enjoy a drink here called guarapo which is made of pressed sugar cane juice and squeezed lime juice and cooled with ice. For a little more than 50 cents, it is a very tasty, cheap, and refreshing beverage. While eating my dinner today, the people at the place that had the food gave me some sugarcane to chew on. Sugarcane is so ubiquitous that everyone seems to just have some lying around.
The day before yesterday was one of those days where mechanical issues slowed me down. My real gears were slipping so much that I saw as necessary to stop and try to fix this issue. After fiddling around with the limiting screws on my derailers for at least an hour, I was able to solve the problem.
When I came into Calì, Colombia, I had ridden 110 kilomers by 2:00 p.m. I was hungry because I hadn't eaten in the last 80 kilometers. My breakfast was delicious and filling enough that I was able to ride a long distance without eating again. I had lechona for the first time. Lechona is a whole pig that is stuffed with rice and more pork and then baked. Mmmmm!
My lunch was the typical fair which includes soup, meat, rice, beans, fried bananas, a salad, and a drink which is usually limeade but can often be something more exotic such as maracuya juice. The main thing that I like about these meals is that they are large and pack in a lot of calories and liquids for me to make it through these long, hot days.
After eating lunch, I was headed to an internet cafe to look for a place to stay for the night when I ran into a couple of teenagers who were smoking weed. They got me high and helped me find more weed.
The place I stayed in Calì is in a nice neighborhood that has a park on a hill overlooking the city. The park is filled with people on Friday nights. There are aspiring musicians playing music for their friends on the hillside, little children sliding down a sidewalk in milkcrates, comedians, and lots of merchants selling their wares.
When I was smoking out on the hillside in the morning, some woman found two boxes filled with kittens. They were all healthy and cute as hell. I helped the woman carry the boxes to a dog groomer where they were going to stay for a while.
I didn't leave Calì until midday but I wanted to stay longer so I could explore the zoo and find some cool graffiti. Alas, I do not have that much time remaining on my visa and I don't want to pay 30 dollars for another two months when I would only be in Colombia a few days longer. I am trying to get past the border with Ecuador at the beginning of August which isn't too far away.
Today clouds started rolling in after dinner but I was able to find a good place to pitch my tent with enough time to watch the storm before it hit. A thunderstorm in the mountains is often a beautiful thing if you aren't stuck in the middle of it.
Day 295 ta:5831 kt:82.5 gps: N 2 degrees 26.780' W 76 degrees 36.519'
Riding along the highway, I see many different kinds of buses. By far the king of style among all the buses is the Colombian chiva. They are dripping in style, so much so that they put even the Guatemalan chicken buses to shame. Made using American buses no younger than 20 years old, the roof is reinforced, the walls and seats are removed and replaced with bench seating with no doors, there is an extra-heavy duty reinforced bumper, and the whole body of the bus is painted in intricate patterns. As the buses pass by, there are often people or merchandise hanging off the bumper. I once even saw one pass by with a dog curled up on the bumper. There is a large bamboo beam that goes across the roof so a tarp can be hung over the roof which carries all the luggage that ranges from sacks of potatoes to motorcycles and everything in between. Sometimes they are rocking some bad ass cumbias when I pass them. Sadly, they are mostly a relic of the past and they have been largely replaced by more conventional buses.
Day 296 ta:3263 kt:57 gps: N 2 degrees 12.146' W 76 degrees 48.920'
Day 297 ta:2150 kt:54.8 gps: N 1 degree 56.684' W 77 degrees 08.195'
Day 298 ta:2856 kt:49 gps: N 1 degree 40.570' W 77 degrees 19.759'
Day 299 ta:5576 kt:51 gps:N 1 degree 26.271' W 77 degrees 16.763'
Day 300 ta:4534 kt:38.3 gps: N 1 degree 11.490' W 77 degrees 16.766'
Day 301 ta:6593 kt:78.4 gps: N 0 degrees 49.819' W 77 degrees 37.960'
Day 302 ta:891 kt:12.6 gps: N 0 degrees 48.117' W 77 degrees 43.320'
The part of Colombia taht is close to the border with Ecuador is spectacularly beautiful. The mountains are massive and they are cut through by many deep river gorges. This does, unfortunately mean that there is a lot of hill climbing but I can deal with that. Considering that I am no more than 100 kilometers from the equator, it is surprisingly cold.
I met yet another person who is riding his bicycle to Southern Argentina. His name is Tom Snyder a.k.a. the bicycle comedian. I personally think that riding a bicycle is more fun than funny but he has made a living as a comedian for the last couple of decades and I respect that. He usually rides from gig to gig around the world on his bicycle. In his act, he rides up onstage. He has amassed an impressive number of miles on his many journeys. It was fun riding with him. We split up at the border because I knew that having overstayed my visa that I was going to be delayed at the border and I didn't want to get him in trouble.
I tried to make it to the border on time but the mountains slowed me down. When I arrived in Ipiales, Cololbia on the border with Ecuador, I thought that I had already overstayed my visa so I just got a hotel room and decided to deal with it the next day. When I arrived at the border crossing, I found out that I had overstayed my visa by exactly one day and that this was going to cost me $100. Doh!!! To officially deal with this problem, one has to pay a fine at a bank and receive a stamp in the passport. However, since it was a Sunday and all the banks were closed, I took the unofficial route and bribed the border officials to erase all the records of my being in Colombia so I could receive my exit stamp before I entered Ecuador. I am not happy about dropping a C-note to deal with this but I figure my idiotic government will find some way to devalue my savings by at least that amount in a couple of weeks.
Day 303 ta:3341 kt:59.5 gps: N 0º30.680' W 77º55.320'
I had a miserable, rainy start for my day today. At 9,000+ feet the rain is always cold. After sitting in my tent for a while, I finally decided that the rain wasn't going to let up any time soon so I put on my rain gear, packed up my gear and, rolled up my wet tent. There is a phenomenon that I am finding thoroughly annoying: all of the zippers on my rain gear have become so calcified that none of them work. I can usually get the zippers to work after some effort, but, this morning, I ripped the handle off of one of my zippers while trying to close my pocket. To add to the pleasure of the day, I pulled a muscle in my left thigh after I slipped under my bike before I had even started riding for the day. It was not a bad pull, though, and the sun came out around midday so I was able to enjoy my ride.
One of the things that I love about Latin America is that you can blatantly tresspass on someone's property and they are cool with it. After I pitched my tent tonight, a man with a rifle walked up. I was startled because I thought that I was well hidden. I showed him my hands and told him that I was unarmed. I then told him that I saw clouds coming in from behind and I had to quickly choose a place to erect my tent for the night. He told me not to worry and to sleep well. This was definitely nice because I was planning to pack up my stuff and leave before sunrise. This way, if it is raining in the morning, I can take my time.
Day 304 ta:3577 kt:65.2 gps: N 0º21.607' W 78º07.282'
Day 305 ta:2522 kt:37.5 gps: N 0º10.257' W 78º12.414'
Though I love long fast descents, the change in temperature can be annoying. When I woke up two days ago it was cold and I didn't want to get out of my sleeping bag. After zooming down a mountain, I was in a desert valley and I had to strip off all of my winter gear and my full length tights. I then ascended back into the mountains and had to stop again because it was getting cold. I stopped in the city of Ibarra, Ecuador because I had an upset stomach and I didn't feel like dealing with digestive issues while camping.
I am camped at 9,000 feet again right now and it is cold again. I should make it to Quito tomorrow and I am hoping that I don't have to deal with any major elevation changes.
I don't know when they decided it was their official hat but the indigenous Ecuadorans like to wear a hat that looks like a cross between a fedora and a stove-pipe hat. After passing through some mostly black areas in sugar cane growing regions I am just to the north of Quito where everyone seems to have a more indigenous appearance.
Ecuador is dirt cheap. If you spend more than $2 on a meal, you should expect a feast. The hotel I stayed at in Ibarra was a "luxury hotel" that cost $7 a night. It was a pretty nice place that would have easily cost at least $60 a night if it were in the U.S. If an Ecuadoran was working in the U.S. for $6 an hour, there first two hours would probably pay for all the rent and daily expenditures and the rest would be icing on the cake.
Day 307 ta:6075 kt:89.8 gps: S 0º12.187´W 78º 29.233'
I finally crossed the equator on the way to Quito. There are no offical markers on the highway which was surprising. I spent yet another day going through large temperature changes as I would go from higher elevation to lower elevation and back again. My friend Luis was, ironically, in the city I had left from in the morning when I called him from Quito so I had to get a hotel for the night.
I am staying at Luis's house. I met him when I was going to the University of Texas and he was also attending school there. He is from Guayaquil, Ecuador originally but moved to Quito about three years ago. He is currently opening up the first headshop in all of Quito. He has told me that he has the only store in the country that sells bongs. Right now at his place, there are hundreds of bongs and pipes spread all over his tables.
I am happy to report that one can find pretty good weed in Ecuador. It doesn't smell or taste as nice as what I am used to smoking in Austin but it has no seeds and packs a punch. We have been smoking out of a bong which he smuggled into Ecuador from the U.S. by airplane. He left it at his mother's house for the longest time and told her that it was a flower vase. He told me that he thinks about 5% of Quito gets high so he may be on to something by opening up his headshop. I have never had so much hope for capitalism to succeed.
We made some tea out of San Pedro cactus and went wild. San Pedro cactus has trace amounts of mescaline, which is the psychoactive substance in peyote, in the skin. San Pedro grows all over the place in Ecuador and many people have it their doorways because it is the "guardian of the doorway to heavan." Preparation requires a lot of time and a lot of patience. I spent several hours peeling the outer layer of skin of the cactus cylinders and despining them before we boiled the skin several times to make a very concentrated tea. The trip was strong compared to the peyote I ate in Mexico which surprised me because the mescaline is more concentrated in peyote. We are talking about going camping with a bunch of this tea. Good fun.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
A Plague of Mosquitos, Trigger-happy Cops, and Majestic Mountains
Day 242 ta:537 kt:33.5 gps: N 10 degrees 38.400' W 75 degrees 24.352'
Day 243 ta:2137 kt:94.1 gps: N 10 degrees 56.539' W 74 degrees 49.980'
Day 244 ta: 984 kt:78 gps: N 10 degrees 21.390' W 74 degrees 52.263'
As I expected, I didn't leave Cartagena until late in the afternoon. I headed to Barranquilla with a very important mission. I was to take a picture of the giant Shakira statue for my mother. At about an hour before sunset on my first day back on the road, I stopped at a town called Arroyo de Canoas. The locals there were friendly; they offered me a place to stay for the night. I gratefully accepted because I was being swarmed by bugs at the time and wanted to get away from them. You could bathe in mosquito repellant and they would still viciously swarm around you.
I stayed in the room of Jonaton, the family's 17-year-old son. He is a big fan of telenovelas so I watched a few with him. Most telenovelas are made in Mexico but Colombia has its own homegrown telenovela called El Cartel. I am glad that someone figured out that the drama that goes on in a drug cartel would make a good soap opera.
I was off to Barranquilla the next day ready to fulfill my mission. I was making good time until my rear tire deflated. As I suspected, the flat was caused by my faulty tire. I learned that the trick of sewing your tires back together only works with cheap tires because they have more rubber. The stitchings held but the tire ripped even more causing the flat. Oh well, I still have one back-up tire.
Only an hour and a half remained until sunset by the time that I made it Barranquilla. I had gained some intelligence as to the whereabouts of the statue beforehand. It was, I was told, on the outskirts of the city at the Metropolitan Stadium. It was getting dark and I was hungry when I decided it was best to find some food and a place to stay. The mission could wait for the next day.
The place I where I was camped at was an abandoned house close to a highway intersection. It was far enough from the road so that I didn't have to worry about being bothered. Abandoned houses are great places to camp in the countryside but not so great in the city because they become de facto public toilets. There were no shitstains on my tent when I woke up and I was happy for this minor miracle.
Fortunately for me, the statue of Shakira was on the way to the highway that heads to Medellin. It was not as impressive as I had hoped. I took a few pictures and took off.
It is hot, humid, and flat in this part of the country. There are ranches as far as the eyes can see. Insects plague me everywhere I go. I can't wait to be in the mountains but they don't start for another 300 kilometers or so. I would happily give up the flat terrain to be rid of the insects.
Day 245 ta:2646 kt:93.1 gps:N 9 degrees 39.812' W 75 degrees 07.967'
Last night, I was unpleasantly awoken by a cop and four soldiers when they shined the lights of their patrol truck on my partially obscured tent. I quickly put on my sweatpants and said, "Buenas noches.", to indicate my friendly nature but to no avail. The cop imperiously barked, "Venga aqui con las manos arriba." I apparently didn't come out of the bushes fast enough for the cop then demanded, "Venga ahora!", several times. Since I didn't want to get shot, I quickly explained that I was unarmed, that I was barefoot and had to put on shoes, and that I had to unzip my tent which was hard to do in the dark. I held my hands high when I came out of the bushes, trying my best not to get shot. All four soldiers had their machine guns trained on me. They let down their guard a little bit when they realized that they had their guns pointed at a half-naked, flip-flop wearing, gringo. The cop was still annoying, though. He interrogated me for a few minutes as if he was trying to catch me in a lie. He told me that my name didn't sound American even though he was holding my passport. I told him that I was a fifth generation American with a funny name. He asked me when and where I arrived and told me that my passport had a different date stamped on it. I told him he probably was looking at my Panama exit stamp. (I checked later and I was right. He was, indeed, looking at my exit stamp.) After I passed his interrogation, he directed me to a hotel and told me my campsite wasn't safe. I wanted to tell him that I felt safe until they pointed their fucking machine guns at me. Thanks Big Brother.
I went to the hotel and put my sleeping pad on the dining room floor as instructed by the hotel owner. He didn't charge me for this impromptu arrangement. I didn't want to unpack everything after I had been forced to repack it in the dark. The mosquitoes devoured me but they started doing this during my ordeal with the law. I managed to get some sleep but only after the hotel owner turned on the fan for me.
It is a good thing that I am pretty proficient with my Spanish or this could have been an international incident. I figured that I would write down a few useful phrases for someone else who finds themselves in the same situation. No tengo armas means I do not have any weapons. No disparen means don't shoot. Venga aqui con las manos arriba means come here with your hands up. Understanding and being able to speak these phrases might save your life.
Sometimes the governments of our world make us choose from a false dilemna between liberty and security. They do their best to spin everything seem like such a dangerous place. An adroit politician can make fascism sound like chocolate cake. Yall like chocolate cake don't yall? What would we ever do without Big Brother their to protect us? I am not afraid of this world. I would choose liberty every time. I am old enough to make responsible decisions about my security and I am willing to reap the consequences if I am wrong. One of the great problems with out world is that there are too many cowards who would choose security over their freedom. These are people who vote for neo-fascists.
The flat land is starting to turn into rolling hills today. Soon enough, I will be in the mountains. I can't wait.
Day 246 ta:2491 kt:74.8 gps:N 90 degrees 13.722' W 75 degrees 24.863'
My day was more of the same today. It is still hot and there are still lots of rolling hills. There do not seem to be any good roadside camping spots here in Colombia or, at least, this part. I am especially paranoid after my rude awakening two nights ago. My campsite tonight is in a graveyard. This is, surprisingly, a first for me.
There are two political issues that can whip me into a loquacious fury. One is the Drug War and the other is the issue of immigration. As far as I am concerned, the only Americans that have any right to complain about immigrants are full-blooded Native Americans and they don't exist anymore because they have all been killed off or bred with Europeans.
The federal government and some state governments have recently started taking more aggressive actions against immigrants. They have been raiding workplaces and arresting immigrants and charging them with felony identity theft because they are using real Social Security numbers.
I read comments from many Americans that say something along the lines of, "They get what they deserve because they are all breaking the law." I disagree with that statement because the laws were passed with racist intent to begin with. We did not have any immigration laws minus the Chinese Exclusion Act until after World War I. Being heavily influenced by the ideas of eugenics that were in vogue at the time, Congress passed the Johnson-Reed Act of 1924. A better name for this act would have been the No More Mics, Spics, Dagos, Kikes, Niggers, or Gooks Act because it effectively limited legal immigrants to Western Europeans. It created a quota of no more than 2% of any nationality that currently resided in the United States. Since Southern and Eastern Europeans only started to come to the United States at the turn of the century, the numbers that were allowed to legally immigrate were severely restricted. Africans, Asians, and Latin Americans were not even listed in the quotas so it was assumed that the government didn't want any of them. The U.S. government so enthusiastically enforced this new law that it turned away entire boatloads of Jews during World War II, knowing very well that they would surely be killed off by the Nazis. In 1952 and again in 1965, the U.S. Congress amended the original act so that it broke down the quota between hemispheres instead of by country. It also allowed for war refugees to immigrate to the United States. I like to call these ammendments the No More Poor Uneducated Mics, Spics, Dagos, Kikes, Niggers, or Gooks Acts. They provided no quota for skilled and educated immigrants but still severely restricted immigrations from the huddled masses. They should have torn down the Statue of Liberty when they passed these laws. Maybe they should change, "Give us your poor, tired, huddled masses...." to "Fuck all you Mexicans" because that would be more of a reflection of the current sentiment. Notice no one wants to build a wall on the Canadian border.
I wonder what would happen if the U.S. government sent all of the "illegal" Mexicans back home. Mexico already has significant unemployment and underemployment and sending back 10% of the population would only exacerbate this issue. This is a recipe for revolution. They could then all immigrate to the United States as war refugees. Maybe they could all get jobs as drug mules and assassins working for the cartels and thus avoid unemployment.
Day 247 ta: 2344 kt:84.8 gps: N 8 degrees 34.639' W 75 degrees 29.072'
It rained very hard in the graveyard last night. I discovered that the rainfly for my tent is practically useless if the wind is blowing hard. The center of the storm passed right over me. I could tell because the thunder and lightning were simultaneous. There was nothing I could do inside my drizzling tent but cover my body with my rain jacket and cover my sleeping bag with my body to keep it dry. I managed to get some sleep dreaming of cops with machine guns.
In Colombia, the truck drivers drive older rigs than I have seen in Central America. I have seen some that look like they are at least fifty-years-old. Many of them were hauling hefty payloads, too.
The people in the towns are crazy for their small motorcycles which are barely powerful enough to keep up with the cars on the highway. Today, I saw two men carrying a hog-tied pig on their motorcycle. In the larger towns there are so many motorcycles that it reminds me of pictures that I have seen of Bangkok.
I popped a spoke today. The first thing I will do tomorrow is fix it. I hope that this doesn't become a chronic problem.
Day 248 ta:1554 kt: 61.8 gps: N 8 degrees 08.174' W 75 degrees 24.723'
As is usually the case whenever I have to fix on my bike, the spoke repair took longer than I anticipated. I had to remove the tire, remove the rim tape, put in a new spoke, true the wheel, put on new rim tape, put the tire and innertube back on, and pump up the tire. After I finished pumping up the tire, the prestivalve shot off to God knows where and I had to repeat the last two steps. I noticed that the bike shop in Panama City gave me a 36 spoke hub for my 32 spoke rim. This concerns me a little bit because there are gaps in the rotational symmetry of my wheel. I am worried that this will lead to uneven spoke tension and, hence, more broken spokes. I will probably try to swap out hubs in one of the big cities.
Between the late start and the long internet/lunch break I didn't get very far. I am hoping to make it to a point where I can finally see the Andes tomorrow.
Day 249 ta: 2483 kt:97.1 gps: N 7 degrees 33.088' W 75 degrees 22.841'
I can finally see the northernmost part of the Andes though they area still about 50 or 60 kilometers away. Hopefully, I will reach the base of the mountains by midday tomorrow and make it up to at least 4,000 feet where it will be cool at night and devoid of mosquitoes. I have grown tired of the heat, the plague of flies, and the lack of good campsites. I probably won't pass the tree line until I am somewhere in Peru.
There was another unexpected road hazard today. A dump truck rode under some electricity wires with its back still propped up and almost took down the wires with the poles. It is a good thing that I was paying attention. I quickly rode to the other side of the highway to avoid any live wires or downed poles.
I found another bridge to camp under tonight. This is good because it looks like it is going to rain again tonight as it has been prone to do recently.There are literally hundreds of wasp nests above me on the roof of the bridge. This is good because I like wasps and I am not allergic. Maybe they will eat all of the mosquitoes.
The river I am camped next to is one of the first clean rivers I have seen in a while so I took a bath. This is nice because I haven't bathed since Cartagena. When I get to Medellin in probably three days, I am going to shower to my heart's content.
Day 250 ta:4533 kt:65.1 gps:N 7 degrees 07.067' W 75 degrees 28.045'
Day 251 ta: 6553 kt: 75.2 gps: N 6 degrees 38.860' W 75 degrees 27.610'
Day 252 ta: 2641 kt: 81.1 gps: N 6 degrees 12.446' W 75 degrees 34.529'
Day 253-255 I stayed in Medellin
I am now in the Andes. The road that I followed into Medellin is quite lovely. It starts out by going along a ridge. Huge green gorges open up to each side. There are lots of waterfalls right by the side of the road. It is already significantly cooler, too.
The locals have a novel way of hitchhiking on the long uphill parts of the road. I see rigs passing by with people hanging off the back like they are spiderman. There are, of course, people on bicycles hanging on to the corner of the rigs as well. I don't do this because I think it is cheating.
When I was taking a little break from a long climb, my friend Gwen from Belgium rode up the hill. We rode together for the next two days. Having a riding partner actually makes me move faster because I feel guilty if I take too many breaks. We made some good time on those long ascents.
Just so no one thinks I hate soldiers, I actually camped with a bunch of soldiers at a checkpoint on the road. It was getting close to sunset and I didn't see any very good prospective campsites so I straight up asked them for permission to camp with them. This helps avoid any misunderstandings that lead to getting machine guns pointed at me. In the morning Gwen and I took some great photos with them. They even brought out their fully loaded grenade launcher for the photo shoot and let me hold it.
After staying in the town of Santa Rosa de los Osos, Gwen and I parted ways because I wanted to sleep in and he didn't. Santa Rosa is a nice place and I am surprised there are not more tourists there. It has a special dish called an arepa de queso that I really liked. It is a pan grilled hunk of cheese covered in a sweet milk sauce. In the morning, before I left, I wondered around the central plaza and watched some people trying to catch a stubborn cow. It was pretty hilarious watching the cow run around, block traffic, and overpower the two people trying to rope it.
I finally left Santa Rosa around midday but I made it to Medellin because there is a very large descent to the city on the way from Santa Rosa. I must have passed at least 20 semis on the way down. The metropolitan area of Medellin is pretty large. It seems like there are probably about 5 million people living in the general area. I am now resting and relaxing. It is nice to enjoy a little down time every once and a while.
I read the other day that the state of Florida did a study that concluded that prescription drugs were responsible for at least three times as many deaths in the state as all illegal drugs combined. Alcohol and cigarettes also kill more people than all the illegal drugs. Guess how many deaths were attributed to marijuana. Zero. Our nation's drug policy is a fucking joke.
Day 243 ta:2137 kt:94.1 gps: N 10 degrees 56.539' W 74 degrees 49.980'
Day 244 ta: 984 kt:78 gps: N 10 degrees 21.390' W 74 degrees 52.263'
As I expected, I didn't leave Cartagena until late in the afternoon. I headed to Barranquilla with a very important mission. I was to take a picture of the giant Shakira statue for my mother. At about an hour before sunset on my first day back on the road, I stopped at a town called Arroyo de Canoas. The locals there were friendly; they offered me a place to stay for the night. I gratefully accepted because I was being swarmed by bugs at the time and wanted to get away from them. You could bathe in mosquito repellant and they would still viciously swarm around you.
I stayed in the room of Jonaton, the family's 17-year-old son. He is a big fan of telenovelas so I watched a few with him. Most telenovelas are made in Mexico but Colombia has its own homegrown telenovela called El Cartel. I am glad that someone figured out that the drama that goes on in a drug cartel would make a good soap opera.
I was off to Barranquilla the next day ready to fulfill my mission. I was making good time until my rear tire deflated. As I suspected, the flat was caused by my faulty tire. I learned that the trick of sewing your tires back together only works with cheap tires because they have more rubber. The stitchings held but the tire ripped even more causing the flat. Oh well, I still have one back-up tire.
Only an hour and a half remained until sunset by the time that I made it Barranquilla. I had gained some intelligence as to the whereabouts of the statue beforehand. It was, I was told, on the outskirts of the city at the Metropolitan Stadium. It was getting dark and I was hungry when I decided it was best to find some food and a place to stay. The mission could wait for the next day.
The place I where I was camped at was an abandoned house close to a highway intersection. It was far enough from the road so that I didn't have to worry about being bothered. Abandoned houses are great places to camp in the countryside but not so great in the city because they become de facto public toilets. There were no shitstains on my tent when I woke up and I was happy for this minor miracle.
Fortunately for me, the statue of Shakira was on the way to the highway that heads to Medellin. It was not as impressive as I had hoped. I took a few pictures and took off.
It is hot, humid, and flat in this part of the country. There are ranches as far as the eyes can see. Insects plague me everywhere I go. I can't wait to be in the mountains but they don't start for another 300 kilometers or so. I would happily give up the flat terrain to be rid of the insects.
Day 245 ta:2646 kt:93.1 gps:N 9 degrees 39.812' W 75 degrees 07.967'
Last night, I was unpleasantly awoken by a cop and four soldiers when they shined the lights of their patrol truck on my partially obscured tent. I quickly put on my sweatpants and said, "Buenas noches.", to indicate my friendly nature but to no avail. The cop imperiously barked, "Venga aqui con las manos arriba." I apparently didn't come out of the bushes fast enough for the cop then demanded, "Venga ahora!", several times. Since I didn't want to get shot, I quickly explained that I was unarmed, that I was barefoot and had to put on shoes, and that I had to unzip my tent which was hard to do in the dark. I held my hands high when I came out of the bushes, trying my best not to get shot. All four soldiers had their machine guns trained on me. They let down their guard a little bit when they realized that they had their guns pointed at a half-naked, flip-flop wearing, gringo. The cop was still annoying, though. He interrogated me for a few minutes as if he was trying to catch me in a lie. He told me that my name didn't sound American even though he was holding my passport. I told him that I was a fifth generation American with a funny name. He asked me when and where I arrived and told me that my passport had a different date stamped on it. I told him he probably was looking at my Panama exit stamp. (I checked later and I was right. He was, indeed, looking at my exit stamp.) After I passed his interrogation, he directed me to a hotel and told me my campsite wasn't safe. I wanted to tell him that I felt safe until they pointed their fucking machine guns at me. Thanks Big Brother.
I went to the hotel and put my sleeping pad on the dining room floor as instructed by the hotel owner. He didn't charge me for this impromptu arrangement. I didn't want to unpack everything after I had been forced to repack it in the dark. The mosquitoes devoured me but they started doing this during my ordeal with the law. I managed to get some sleep but only after the hotel owner turned on the fan for me.
It is a good thing that I am pretty proficient with my Spanish or this could have been an international incident. I figured that I would write down a few useful phrases for someone else who finds themselves in the same situation. No tengo armas means I do not have any weapons. No disparen means don't shoot. Venga aqui con las manos arriba means come here with your hands up. Understanding and being able to speak these phrases might save your life.
Sometimes the governments of our world make us choose from a false dilemna between liberty and security. They do their best to spin everything seem like such a dangerous place. An adroit politician can make fascism sound like chocolate cake. Yall like chocolate cake don't yall? What would we ever do without Big Brother their to protect us? I am not afraid of this world. I would choose liberty every time. I am old enough to make responsible decisions about my security and I am willing to reap the consequences if I am wrong. One of the great problems with out world is that there are too many cowards who would choose security over their freedom. These are people who vote for neo-fascists.
The flat land is starting to turn into rolling hills today. Soon enough, I will be in the mountains. I can't wait.
Day 246 ta:2491 kt:74.8 gps:N 90 degrees 13.722' W 75 degrees 24.863'
My day was more of the same today. It is still hot and there are still lots of rolling hills. There do not seem to be any good roadside camping spots here in Colombia or, at least, this part. I am especially paranoid after my rude awakening two nights ago. My campsite tonight is in a graveyard. This is, surprisingly, a first for me.
There are two political issues that can whip me into a loquacious fury. One is the Drug War and the other is the issue of immigration. As far as I am concerned, the only Americans that have any right to complain about immigrants are full-blooded Native Americans and they don't exist anymore because they have all been killed off or bred with Europeans.
The federal government and some state governments have recently started taking more aggressive actions against immigrants. They have been raiding workplaces and arresting immigrants and charging them with felony identity theft because they are using real Social Security numbers.
I read comments from many Americans that say something along the lines of, "They get what they deserve because they are all breaking the law." I disagree with that statement because the laws were passed with racist intent to begin with. We did not have any immigration laws minus the Chinese Exclusion Act until after World War I. Being heavily influenced by the ideas of eugenics that were in vogue at the time, Congress passed the Johnson-Reed Act of 1924. A better name for this act would have been the No More Mics, Spics, Dagos, Kikes, Niggers, or Gooks Act because it effectively limited legal immigrants to Western Europeans. It created a quota of no more than 2% of any nationality that currently resided in the United States. Since Southern and Eastern Europeans only started to come to the United States at the turn of the century, the numbers that were allowed to legally immigrate were severely restricted. Africans, Asians, and Latin Americans were not even listed in the quotas so it was assumed that the government didn't want any of them. The U.S. government so enthusiastically enforced this new law that it turned away entire boatloads of Jews during World War II, knowing very well that they would surely be killed off by the Nazis. In 1952 and again in 1965, the U.S. Congress amended the original act so that it broke down the quota between hemispheres instead of by country. It also allowed for war refugees to immigrate to the United States. I like to call these ammendments the No More Poor Uneducated Mics, Spics, Dagos, Kikes, Niggers, or Gooks Acts. They provided no quota for skilled and educated immigrants but still severely restricted immigrations from the huddled masses. They should have torn down the Statue of Liberty when they passed these laws. Maybe they should change, "Give us your poor, tired, huddled masses...." to "Fuck all you Mexicans" because that would be more of a reflection of the current sentiment. Notice no one wants to build a wall on the Canadian border.
I wonder what would happen if the U.S. government sent all of the "illegal" Mexicans back home. Mexico already has significant unemployment and underemployment and sending back 10% of the population would only exacerbate this issue. This is a recipe for revolution. They could then all immigrate to the United States as war refugees. Maybe they could all get jobs as drug mules and assassins working for the cartels and thus avoid unemployment.
Day 247 ta: 2344 kt:84.8 gps: N 8 degrees 34.639' W 75 degrees 29.072'
It rained very hard in the graveyard last night. I discovered that the rainfly for my tent is practically useless if the wind is blowing hard. The center of the storm passed right over me. I could tell because the thunder and lightning were simultaneous. There was nothing I could do inside my drizzling tent but cover my body with my rain jacket and cover my sleeping bag with my body to keep it dry. I managed to get some sleep dreaming of cops with machine guns.
In Colombia, the truck drivers drive older rigs than I have seen in Central America. I have seen some that look like they are at least fifty-years-old. Many of them were hauling hefty payloads, too.
The people in the towns are crazy for their small motorcycles which are barely powerful enough to keep up with the cars on the highway. Today, I saw two men carrying a hog-tied pig on their motorcycle. In the larger towns there are so many motorcycles that it reminds me of pictures that I have seen of Bangkok.
I popped a spoke today. The first thing I will do tomorrow is fix it. I hope that this doesn't become a chronic problem.
Day 248 ta:1554 kt: 61.8 gps: N 8 degrees 08.174' W 75 degrees 24.723'
As is usually the case whenever I have to fix on my bike, the spoke repair took longer than I anticipated. I had to remove the tire, remove the rim tape, put in a new spoke, true the wheel, put on new rim tape, put the tire and innertube back on, and pump up the tire. After I finished pumping up the tire, the prestivalve shot off to God knows where and I had to repeat the last two steps. I noticed that the bike shop in Panama City gave me a 36 spoke hub for my 32 spoke rim. This concerns me a little bit because there are gaps in the rotational symmetry of my wheel. I am worried that this will lead to uneven spoke tension and, hence, more broken spokes. I will probably try to swap out hubs in one of the big cities.
Between the late start and the long internet/lunch break I didn't get very far. I am hoping to make it to a point where I can finally see the Andes tomorrow.
Day 249 ta: 2483 kt:97.1 gps: N 7 degrees 33.088' W 75 degrees 22.841'
I can finally see the northernmost part of the Andes though they area still about 50 or 60 kilometers away. Hopefully, I will reach the base of the mountains by midday tomorrow and make it up to at least 4,000 feet where it will be cool at night and devoid of mosquitoes. I have grown tired of the heat, the plague of flies, and the lack of good campsites. I probably won't pass the tree line until I am somewhere in Peru.
There was another unexpected road hazard today. A dump truck rode under some electricity wires with its back still propped up and almost took down the wires with the poles. It is a good thing that I was paying attention. I quickly rode to the other side of the highway to avoid any live wires or downed poles.
I found another bridge to camp under tonight. This is good because it looks like it is going to rain again tonight as it has been prone to do recently.There are literally hundreds of wasp nests above me on the roof of the bridge. This is good because I like wasps and I am not allergic. Maybe they will eat all of the mosquitoes.
The river I am camped next to is one of the first clean rivers I have seen in a while so I took a bath. This is nice because I haven't bathed since Cartagena. When I get to Medellin in probably three days, I am going to shower to my heart's content.
Day 250 ta:4533 kt:65.1 gps:N 7 degrees 07.067' W 75 degrees 28.045'
Day 251 ta: 6553 kt: 75.2 gps: N 6 degrees 38.860' W 75 degrees 27.610'
Day 252 ta: 2641 kt: 81.1 gps: N 6 degrees 12.446' W 75 degrees 34.529'
Day 253-255 I stayed in Medellin
I am now in the Andes. The road that I followed into Medellin is quite lovely. It starts out by going along a ridge. Huge green gorges open up to each side. There are lots of waterfalls right by the side of the road. It is already significantly cooler, too.
The locals have a novel way of hitchhiking on the long uphill parts of the road. I see rigs passing by with people hanging off the back like they are spiderman. There are, of course, people on bicycles hanging on to the corner of the rigs as well. I don't do this because I think it is cheating.
When I was taking a little break from a long climb, my friend Gwen from Belgium rode up the hill. We rode together for the next two days. Having a riding partner actually makes me move faster because I feel guilty if I take too many breaks. We made some good time on those long ascents.
Just so no one thinks I hate soldiers, I actually camped with a bunch of soldiers at a checkpoint on the road. It was getting close to sunset and I didn't see any very good prospective campsites so I straight up asked them for permission to camp with them. This helps avoid any misunderstandings that lead to getting machine guns pointed at me. In the morning Gwen and I took some great photos with them. They even brought out their fully loaded grenade launcher for the photo shoot and let me hold it.
After staying in the town of Santa Rosa de los Osos, Gwen and I parted ways because I wanted to sleep in and he didn't. Santa Rosa is a nice place and I am surprised there are not more tourists there. It has a special dish called an arepa de queso that I really liked. It is a pan grilled hunk of cheese covered in a sweet milk sauce. In the morning, before I left, I wondered around the central plaza and watched some people trying to catch a stubborn cow. It was pretty hilarious watching the cow run around, block traffic, and overpower the two people trying to rope it.
I finally left Santa Rosa around midday but I made it to Medellin because there is a very large descent to the city on the way from Santa Rosa. I must have passed at least 20 semis on the way down. The metropolitan area of Medellin is pretty large. It seems like there are probably about 5 million people living in the general area. I am now resting and relaxing. It is nice to enjoy a little down time every once and a while.
I read the other day that the state of Florida did a study that concluded that prescription drugs were responsible for at least three times as many deaths in the state as all illegal drugs combined. Alcohol and cigarettes also kill more people than all the illegal drugs. Guess how many deaths were attributed to marijuana. Zero. Our nation's drug policy is a fucking joke.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Time to Start Pedaling Again
Day 232 I stayed in Panama City one more day
Day 233 ta: 1309 kt:38.7 gps: N 9 degrees 13.286' W 79 degrees 37.579'
I finally broke away from the clutches of Panama City today. If I wanted to wait around for the rain to stop I would probably have to wait around for several months so I decided it was time to go, rain or sun. It is raining right now.
Panama City is a very cosmopolitan city. There are also a lot of very wealthy people here. I saw lots of people driving Maseratis and Porches. On the other side of town, people live in buildings that are crumbling around them. There don't seem to be any bonafide shanty towns, though. If you come to Panama City, you can hobnob with millionaires in the banking district or hang out with rasta dudes in the ghetto.
The place I stayed at in Panama City is nice. It is called Zuly's Hostel. Zuly is an African-Panamanian goddess who isn't but a year older than me. The beds were comfortable, the rooms were quiet, and we had free internet and cable. My only complaint is that she cracks down on pot smoking but that is mainly to protect herself.
My campsite is at a government building. It is an agricultural inspection post to be precise. I didn't ask anyone permission to be there, I just set up my tent. A worker found me a little later but he said it was okay. He even offered for me to set up my tent under a roof but I was already unpacked so I politely declined. If I were in the U.S., they would have called the cops and I would have spent a night in jail.
Day 234 ta:1613 kt:42.9 gps: N 9 degrees 36.043' W 79 degrees 35.283'
Day 235-239 I was in the Caribbean sea on a boat to Cartagena
Day 240-242 I stayed in Cartagena
There must be something about the humidity in Central America that causes excessive rubber rot because I had to sew my new/used rear tire back together the day before I left Panama. I miraculously found two more new/used tires at a bike shop in Cartagena. This miracle, which now seems to be on the Jesus-walking-on-water variety, has probably given me at least another several thousand kilometers before I have to worry about my tires again. I should be able to make it through Colombia, at the least, without having to buy more tires.
The day before I left Panama, I was sitting at a lunch stop when two other cyclists from Colorado rode up in a truck taxi. They had to hurry to the town of Puerto Lindo, Panama because their boat was leaving the next day. Being faced with the opportunity to leave Panama the next day rather than sit around for a week or more waiting for a boat, I put my bike in the back and rode with them to Puerto Lindo.
The names of the two riders are Ralph and Pat. They are a married couple from Colorado who is taking two years to ride from Prudhoe Bay, Alaska to the southern tip of Argentina. Being a gearhead, I had a bicycle-induced orgasm when I saw their bikes. They have two titanium soft-tail bicycles with front suspension and mechanical disk brakes. My bike is nice enough but I was having some very unfaithful thoughts when I saw theirs. They have have ridden off-road some as their bikes should be able to devour dirt roads.
I have heard a lot of horror stories about drunk captains and unseaworthy boats so I wanted to go to port before I agreed to get on a boat. That being said, the boat ride to Cartagena was at times a little unpleasant but was mostly a hoot. The unpleasantness was entirely due to my day-long bout of seasickness and not the captain or the boat. I was a little disapointed that we were motor-sailing but the wind wasn't strong enough for us to keep our schedule. There is only so much food and fresh water that you can carry on a boat.
Captain Mark was a gregarious guy with a with a lovely Colombian wife young enough to be his daughter. He spends most of his time on his boat in the San Blas Islands, a Caribbean paradise south of the hurricane danger zone. He makes money by delivering goods to islanders and other boaters anchored at the San Blas Islands and taking backpackers from Panama to Cartagena and vice versa. It seems to me that he lives a pretty idealic life though I am not ready to give up tierra firma and follow in his footsteps just yet.
We stayed at the San Blas Islands as Captain Mark's houseguests for most of the time we were on the boat. This place really is beautiful with crystal-clear blue water and abundant sealife. I spent most of my time snorkelling and reading. The reefs in the San Blas Islands are not as impressive as those in the Bay Islands of Honduras but still had an impressive array of sealife. I saw lots of barracudas, sting rays, and eagle rays to go along with many of the fish that I saw in Honduras. I also saw dolphins and squid. My boatmates saw sharks but I wasn't so lucky. We ate well while we were anchored at the islands so I can say that my memories of this place are all good.
After five days at sea, we finally arrived in Cartagena, Colombia. Cartagena is one of the more popular tourist destinations in Colombia. I would describe it as a small island of beautiful colonial architecture and fortifications surrounded by a sea of slums. The hotel where I am staying is cheap and upscale compared to what I have gotten used to in Central America but there are plenty of sketchy people in its surroundings. I am spending a few days here getting used to Colombia and running some errands before I start pedaling again.
At the hotel, I smoked a joint with another person staying in the hotel for the first time in over a month. I then went back to my room and watched cable T.V. Here in Latin America, some of the cable channels show cherry-picked reruns of the American cable channels. I saw That's My Bush and Breaking Bad for the first time. Maybe it was the fact that I was stoned for the first time in a long time but these shows seemed brilliant. In That's My Bush, the president was going to celebrate the arrest of the 100 millionth War on Drugs criminal at a White House Press Conference when he accidentally ingests a couple of extasy tablets. The press conference quickly degenerates into a rave with the president dancing like a club kid and being as cuddly as ever. In breaking bad, an underpaid science teacher decides he is going to make some extra money by cooking up methamphetamines. I love it when Hollywood mocks the government. As long as the government persists in its quixotic attempt to fight the War on Drugs, there will be plenty of fodder for the screenwriters to ridicule the government with.
Here I am in Colombia, the frontline on the War on Drugs. This is the land of the F.A.R.C., A.U.C., E.L.N., Pablo Escobar, and the Medellin and Calì cartels. Narcoterrorism was invented here. That being said, drugs seem pretty readily available here. Even though I got a stern warning from Captain Mark, I could have easily carried drugs on board in the Caribbean Sea if I were discrete. The sea to the north of Colombia is one of the most heavily policed bodies of water on this planet but they can do nothing to stop the flow of drugs. For every time they stop a ton of cocaine, ten tons are probably making it through. There are people who openly smoke pot on the street here and I have been accosted on more than one occasion by people selling a variety of drugs.
As a pot smoker, I am indignant at amount of effort that all the governments of the world expend keeping pot illegal. Cigarette smokers blithely walk down the street sucking on their cancer sticks and throwing their cigarette butts whereever they want while drunks beat their wives and kill people in traffic accidents but I have to hide in the shadows and constantly look over my shoulders if I want to smoke a joint. There are so many addictions that are worse than marijuana. Cocaine and heroin are obvious but their are so many addictions that are legal that are worse. Have you ever met someone addicted to sniffing glue or huffing gasoline. It is not a pretty sight. How about someone who is addicted to prescription pills, gambling, or sloth.
The worst addiction of them all is the addiction to all the stuff that seems to afflict most Americans and spreads like a cancer to the rest of the world. This addiction lead to the housing bust afflicting America today. Americans wanting to finance their increasingly expensive lifestyle fell victim to the lure of easy money and easy credit to take out mortgages which they couldn't afford. When the times were flush and the house prices were rising, we were able to flip our houses or take out home equity loans so we could buy bigger cars and more stuff than we could ever reasonably afford. Now the economy has been worsening and our lifestyle is being exposed as unsustainable. The Chinas and Indias of the world want their share of stuff, too leading to the rise in almost all commodity and food prices so they can live like westerners. Those poor kids from the slums of the world that grow up to become drug dealers don't do it so they can provide their families with financial security and health care. They want the bling. Maybe we should end the War on Drugs and start fighting the War on Greed.
I don't smoke cigarettes, I almost never drink alcohol, I don't gamble, I don't snort coke or meth or shoot speed but I smoke pot and ingest an occasional few grams of mushrooms. I am not some retarded, drug-addicted loser who can't take care of his own business. I graduated college with a degree in math while working my way through school and I speak two, soon to be three, languages. I paid off all of my loans before I graduated school and have saved up a shitload of money because I have a simple lifestyle centered around not owning a car. I have a rule where I don't buy anything on credit and I usually don't buy anything that I can't carry on my bicycle. This eliminates a lot of useless shit. People probably say, "You must live like a monk.", but I don't. I eat well, go dancing, and enjoy being with friends, making music and food and merriment. I am currently travelling on the adventure of a lifetime because I have been afforded the opportunity by my own personal responsibility. I think it is fun to smoke a whole bunch of pot and spend four hours cooking. I can't think of many things more fun and spiritually rewarding than taking a bunch of mushrooms and climbing a tree. I harm no one with these activities, not even myself, and I am pissed off that my government wants to say that I am a criminal for this behavior. I will be forever defiant until the government ends its insane War on Drugs.
The drug problem is like a poison ivy rash. The more you scratch it the worse it gets. It itches so bad but you have to resist scratching. You have to treat it intelligently by applying ointment to the affected areas. I understand the visceral reaction that people get when they see someone who has ruined their life because of their addiction. I watched my own father ruin his life because of his drug addiction. He chose being an addict over being a father. He started as just a user and quickly graduated to selling drugs to feed his own habit. People think, "We should lock up all the people who sell these drugs and turn our children into addicts." They never think that these people are victims, too. They never think that they are fathers or mothers and that they are somebody's child. Like the person who scratches his poison ivy rash, the government only gets temporary relief by attacking the supply of drugs. It would do a lot better by attacking the root causes of drug addiction such as social inequality and lack of education and opportunity among abusers. Only when the government tries an intelligent solution rather than a reactionary temporary solution will we be able to win the drug war.
The group of presidential candidates is a little bit narrower now but none of them have any positive, proactive solutions for ending the War on Drugs. With that being said, I am going to announce my candidacy for 2016 when I will be old enough to run for president. I promise that I will gather the heads of the D.E.A. and all the respective leaders of the drug agencies from the rest of the world, and anyone else who is responsible for this mess we have gotten ourselves into. We will have a summit about the War on Drugs. I will bake special brownies and harangue all these people for their asinine drug policies. Afterwords, I will have a shaman administer mushrooms to all them so they can experience what it feels like to dissolve their ego for the very first time.
Day 233 ta: 1309 kt:38.7 gps: N 9 degrees 13.286' W 79 degrees 37.579'
I finally broke away from the clutches of Panama City today. If I wanted to wait around for the rain to stop I would probably have to wait around for several months so I decided it was time to go, rain or sun. It is raining right now.
Panama City is a very cosmopolitan city. There are also a lot of very wealthy people here. I saw lots of people driving Maseratis and Porches. On the other side of town, people live in buildings that are crumbling around them. There don't seem to be any bonafide shanty towns, though. If you come to Panama City, you can hobnob with millionaires in the banking district or hang out with rasta dudes in the ghetto.
The place I stayed at in Panama City is nice. It is called Zuly's Hostel. Zuly is an African-Panamanian goddess who isn't but a year older than me. The beds were comfortable, the rooms were quiet, and we had free internet and cable. My only complaint is that she cracks down on pot smoking but that is mainly to protect herself.
My campsite is at a government building. It is an agricultural inspection post to be precise. I didn't ask anyone permission to be there, I just set up my tent. A worker found me a little later but he said it was okay. He even offered for me to set up my tent under a roof but I was already unpacked so I politely declined. If I were in the U.S., they would have called the cops and I would have spent a night in jail.
Day 234 ta:1613 kt:42.9 gps: N 9 degrees 36.043' W 79 degrees 35.283'
Day 235-239 I was in the Caribbean sea on a boat to Cartagena
Day 240-242 I stayed in Cartagena
There must be something about the humidity in Central America that causes excessive rubber rot because I had to sew my new/used rear tire back together the day before I left Panama. I miraculously found two more new/used tires at a bike shop in Cartagena. This miracle, which now seems to be on the Jesus-walking-on-water variety, has probably given me at least another several thousand kilometers before I have to worry about my tires again. I should be able to make it through Colombia, at the least, without having to buy more tires.
The day before I left Panama, I was sitting at a lunch stop when two other cyclists from Colorado rode up in a truck taxi. They had to hurry to the town of Puerto Lindo, Panama because their boat was leaving the next day. Being faced with the opportunity to leave Panama the next day rather than sit around for a week or more waiting for a boat, I put my bike in the back and rode with them to Puerto Lindo.
The names of the two riders are Ralph and Pat. They are a married couple from Colorado who is taking two years to ride from Prudhoe Bay, Alaska to the southern tip of Argentina. Being a gearhead, I had a bicycle-induced orgasm when I saw their bikes. They have two titanium soft-tail bicycles with front suspension and mechanical disk brakes. My bike is nice enough but I was having some very unfaithful thoughts when I saw theirs. They have have ridden off-road some as their bikes should be able to devour dirt roads.
I have heard a lot of horror stories about drunk captains and unseaworthy boats so I wanted to go to port before I agreed to get on a boat. That being said, the boat ride to Cartagena was at times a little unpleasant but was mostly a hoot. The unpleasantness was entirely due to my day-long bout of seasickness and not the captain or the boat. I was a little disapointed that we were motor-sailing but the wind wasn't strong enough for us to keep our schedule. There is only so much food and fresh water that you can carry on a boat.
Captain Mark was a gregarious guy with a with a lovely Colombian wife young enough to be his daughter. He spends most of his time on his boat in the San Blas Islands, a Caribbean paradise south of the hurricane danger zone. He makes money by delivering goods to islanders and other boaters anchored at the San Blas Islands and taking backpackers from Panama to Cartagena and vice versa. It seems to me that he lives a pretty idealic life though I am not ready to give up tierra firma and follow in his footsteps just yet.
We stayed at the San Blas Islands as Captain Mark's houseguests for most of the time we were on the boat. This place really is beautiful with crystal-clear blue water and abundant sealife. I spent most of my time snorkelling and reading. The reefs in the San Blas Islands are not as impressive as those in the Bay Islands of Honduras but still had an impressive array of sealife. I saw lots of barracudas, sting rays, and eagle rays to go along with many of the fish that I saw in Honduras. I also saw dolphins and squid. My boatmates saw sharks but I wasn't so lucky. We ate well while we were anchored at the islands so I can say that my memories of this place are all good.
After five days at sea, we finally arrived in Cartagena, Colombia. Cartagena is one of the more popular tourist destinations in Colombia. I would describe it as a small island of beautiful colonial architecture and fortifications surrounded by a sea of slums. The hotel where I am staying is cheap and upscale compared to what I have gotten used to in Central America but there are plenty of sketchy people in its surroundings. I am spending a few days here getting used to Colombia and running some errands before I start pedaling again.
At the hotel, I smoked a joint with another person staying in the hotel for the first time in over a month. I then went back to my room and watched cable T.V. Here in Latin America, some of the cable channels show cherry-picked reruns of the American cable channels. I saw That's My Bush and Breaking Bad for the first time. Maybe it was the fact that I was stoned for the first time in a long time but these shows seemed brilliant. In That's My Bush, the president was going to celebrate the arrest of the 100 millionth War on Drugs criminal at a White House Press Conference when he accidentally ingests a couple of extasy tablets. The press conference quickly degenerates into a rave with the president dancing like a club kid and being as cuddly as ever. In breaking bad, an underpaid science teacher decides he is going to make some extra money by cooking up methamphetamines. I love it when Hollywood mocks the government. As long as the government persists in its quixotic attempt to fight the War on Drugs, there will be plenty of fodder for the screenwriters to ridicule the government with.
Here I am in Colombia, the frontline on the War on Drugs. This is the land of the F.A.R.C., A.U.C., E.L.N., Pablo Escobar, and the Medellin and Calì cartels. Narcoterrorism was invented here. That being said, drugs seem pretty readily available here. Even though I got a stern warning from Captain Mark, I could have easily carried drugs on board in the Caribbean Sea if I were discrete. The sea to the north of Colombia is one of the most heavily policed bodies of water on this planet but they can do nothing to stop the flow of drugs. For every time they stop a ton of cocaine, ten tons are probably making it through. There are people who openly smoke pot on the street here and I have been accosted on more than one occasion by people selling a variety of drugs.
As a pot smoker, I am indignant at amount of effort that all the governments of the world expend keeping pot illegal. Cigarette smokers blithely walk down the street sucking on their cancer sticks and throwing their cigarette butts whereever they want while drunks beat their wives and kill people in traffic accidents but I have to hide in the shadows and constantly look over my shoulders if I want to smoke a joint. There are so many addictions that are worse than marijuana. Cocaine and heroin are obvious but their are so many addictions that are legal that are worse. Have you ever met someone addicted to sniffing glue or huffing gasoline. It is not a pretty sight. How about someone who is addicted to prescription pills, gambling, or sloth.
The worst addiction of them all is the addiction to all the stuff that seems to afflict most Americans and spreads like a cancer to the rest of the world. This addiction lead to the housing bust afflicting America today. Americans wanting to finance their increasingly expensive lifestyle fell victim to the lure of easy money and easy credit to take out mortgages which they couldn't afford. When the times were flush and the house prices were rising, we were able to flip our houses or take out home equity loans so we could buy bigger cars and more stuff than we could ever reasonably afford. Now the economy has been worsening and our lifestyle is being exposed as unsustainable. The Chinas and Indias of the world want their share of stuff, too leading to the rise in almost all commodity and food prices so they can live like westerners. Those poor kids from the slums of the world that grow up to become drug dealers don't do it so they can provide their families with financial security and health care. They want the bling. Maybe we should end the War on Drugs and start fighting the War on Greed.
I don't smoke cigarettes, I almost never drink alcohol, I don't gamble, I don't snort coke or meth or shoot speed but I smoke pot and ingest an occasional few grams of mushrooms. I am not some retarded, drug-addicted loser who can't take care of his own business. I graduated college with a degree in math while working my way through school and I speak two, soon to be three, languages. I paid off all of my loans before I graduated school and have saved up a shitload of money because I have a simple lifestyle centered around not owning a car. I have a rule where I don't buy anything on credit and I usually don't buy anything that I can't carry on my bicycle. This eliminates a lot of useless shit. People probably say, "You must live like a monk.", but I don't. I eat well, go dancing, and enjoy being with friends, making music and food and merriment. I am currently travelling on the adventure of a lifetime because I have been afforded the opportunity by my own personal responsibility. I think it is fun to smoke a whole bunch of pot and spend four hours cooking. I can't think of many things more fun and spiritually rewarding than taking a bunch of mushrooms and climbing a tree. I harm no one with these activities, not even myself, and I am pissed off that my government wants to say that I am a criminal for this behavior. I will be forever defiant until the government ends its insane War on Drugs.
The drug problem is like a poison ivy rash. The more you scratch it the worse it gets. It itches so bad but you have to resist scratching. You have to treat it intelligently by applying ointment to the affected areas. I understand the visceral reaction that people get when they see someone who has ruined their life because of their addiction. I watched my own father ruin his life because of his drug addiction. He chose being an addict over being a father. He started as just a user and quickly graduated to selling drugs to feed his own habit. People think, "We should lock up all the people who sell these drugs and turn our children into addicts." They never think that these people are victims, too. They never think that they are fathers or mothers and that they are somebody's child. Like the person who scratches his poison ivy rash, the government only gets temporary relief by attacking the supply of drugs. It would do a lot better by attacking the root causes of drug addiction such as social inequality and lack of education and opportunity among abusers. Only when the government tries an intelligent solution rather than a reactionary temporary solution will we be able to win the drug war.
The group of presidential candidates is a little bit narrower now but none of them have any positive, proactive solutions for ending the War on Drugs. With that being said, I am going to announce my candidacy for 2016 when I will be old enough to run for president. I promise that I will gather the heads of the D.E.A. and all the respective leaders of the drug agencies from the rest of the world, and anyone else who is responsible for this mess we have gotten ourselves into. We will have a summit about the War on Drugs. I will bake special brownies and harangue all these people for their asinine drug policies. Afterwords, I will have a shaman administer mushrooms to all them so they can experience what it feels like to dissolve their ego for the very first time.
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